No Fear
by LaughingTiger
Summary: Commander Shepard can't sleep. Death wasn't the clean slate she had always expected, it's just another scar. (working through ME2, ME3 to follow)
1. Drift

Shepard slowly clenched and unclenched her hands, twisting them into the sheets. Every night, she went through this. The shutters were rolled back, exposing the _breathtaking_ view of open space and the clouds of color and light generated by the ship's speed. Breathtaking was the word for it. Before the Collector ship blew the first Normandy out of the sky, she would have reveled in it, but now the sight made her stomach flip. Just when she thought she had the reaction under control, a new wave would hit as she irrationally expected to _fall_.

She clenched her jaw and angrily keyed the shutter control that was slaved to a function on her omni-tool. She could hardly even _remember_ her free-fall through space, but she knew she hadn't been afraid, even when she _knew_ she was going to die. Angry? Absolutely. She had thrashed and twisted as she drifted toward Alchera, trying in vain to reach the breach in her hardsuit, even though she knew simply clamping a hand over the rupture would do exactly nothing to save her, especially when she hit the planet's atmosphere, as she knew she would long before anyone could possibly swoop to her rescue. But she didn't scream, or shout, or curse. She fell in silence, aside from the grunts and gasps of effort as she tried to do _something_ before she died.

No fear. So why, now, did the sight of open space freeze her blood and make her heart rate spike like she'd just sprinted around the ship? And it was getting worse. Now, occasionally she woke up in a cold sweat, terrified she'd fallen asleep with the shutters open. _Why the _hell_ does it matter while I'm asleep, anyway? I'm on a goddamn starship, I'm surrounded by hard vacuum if I can see it or not._ When that happened, she made herself hit the control that haunted her and watch the stars until she succumbed to exhaustion. Or until she had to get up and return to duty, as was most often the case– as was the case now.

Her feet hit the floor a moment before her omni-tool chimed to wake her and the lights in the cabin rose slowly to full illumination. _Time to get up. Did I sleep more than an hour last night?_ It didn't feel like it. She hated relying on stims to get her through the day, but it had been a long time since she could claim she didn't need them for just that. Her first cup of coffee was already waiting– _Thanks EDI– _and she ignored that it was still a little too hot and drank it in long gulps anyway. _Cerberus definitely does coffee better than the Alliance_, she thought, recognizing another entry on the long list of justifications she'd been constructing since a few hours after she woke to Jacob shoving a gun into her hand and Miranda's voice in her ears.

Not for the first time, she wondered how Miranda would react if she told her about the developing _phobia_. Ms. Perfect was so proud of her success– restoring her to life when she was little more than cooked meat and miraculously-preserved gray matter should have been utterly impossible–_ why couldn't they let the dead rest_– what would Miranda think to learn that her _success_ shivered in her bed every night like a child afraid of the dark?

Shepard would never dream of revealing such a weakness to anyone in the Alliance, psych evaluations would follow and in her gut she knew where that would lead. She'd be grounded– stuck on one planet or another, never to fly or command a ship again. But Cerberus needed her, and she was no good to them on the ground. Even if they wanted to, even if they _should_, she knew they wouldn't.

The truth was that she suspected the _defect_ had nothing do do with project Lazarus, and everything to do with her. It was only a matter of time before something left a permanent mark on her psyche. The Alliance had been scrutinizing her for just such a crack ever since Torfan. Hell, they'd been looking for mental scars since she enlisted, but Torfan convinced some that they'd missed something. It was the batarians. If it hadn't been batarians, no one would have drawn a connection, no one would have worried, but after Mindoir, batarians and Shepard in the same sentence would always raise eyebrows and hushed whispers.

So she toyed with the idea of confiding in Lawson for all of thirty seconds, just like she had every morning for the past several weeks, then shoved the thought away with more than a hint of anger with herself. It was bad enough that she was _afraid_, but wanting so much to share it with someone, to relieve herself of the burden of it, was even worse. And Cerberus was the enemy. _Never reveal weakness to an enemy._

It was a handy excuse.


	2. Chocolate-Peanut Butter

"Commander," the mess sergeant greeted, pouring her a cup of coffee.

Shepard dredged his name from her memory and accepted the cup, "Rupert. Protein bars?"

"Why don't you try some real food, Commander? One of these days you've got to let me cook for you," the man insisted. "The crew doesn't even complain about the food anymore, now that you got those supplies for me."

"Glad to hear it, but not today. No time. Where are they?" Shepard asked, sipping at the coffee. The mess sergeant set a box of dry rations on the counter and turned back to his work with a snort and a shake of his head.

"Shepard," a familiar voice greeted. "You're up early."

"Not exactly, Garrus" she countered, digging through the box of protein bars and nutrient paste for something not flavored like peanut butter, chocolate, or the worst– both.

The turian checked the time, "Aw, hell. Happens to me every time."

"Late night? Let me guess, you found the lounge?"

"There's a lounge? Heh, I guess I didn't explore as thoroughly as I thought."

"Well, I guess we both still have something to look forward to. I haven't seen much of it, either. So, if it wasn't liquor and a galactic vista, what kept you up all night?"

The turian sighed, "The main battery is a mess, Shepard. The firing algorithms, well... they're better now. But I still need to run more simulations. A lot more. Calibrations are going to take a while to get perfect. If you'd find something to shoot at that won't shoot back, it'd go a lot faster."

"We're not going to sit around blowing rocks into dust, Garrus. Sorry."

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter. Cerberus upgraded the guns on this ship. We should have a bit more kick than the original Normandy. I still don't like our chances against a Collector ship, though. Not unless we upgrade the guns."

"I'll look into it," tearing the wrapper off a peanut butter flavored brick of breakfast. Apparently, everyone else hated peanut butter protein bars as much as she did, or that's all the ship was stocked with.

"In the mean time, it's going to take some time to get the SR-2 up to my standards."

"I'm glad you're here to take care of it," she said, biting into the protein bar. "Are you even officially on the roster yet?"

"No."

"That's what I thought. Enjoy it while you can. I'll make sure you're assigned duties tomorrow."

"Great. I was beginning to wonder what you were keeping me around for," he said, his mandibles twitching in what Shepard thought must be amusement. "You didn't know Archangel was Garrus Vakarian until I took off my helmet, after all. I wondered if you might have had some second thoughts."

"Come on," she said around the last dry mouthful of her protein bar. She made quick work unwrapping a second one, "It hasn't even been two days since you got out of the med bay. If that file had said 'Garrus Vakarian' on it, Omega would have been my first stop. I wish it had, maybe then your face wouldn't be such a train wreck right now," she softened the insult with a smile, which she thought the Turian returned.

"I have no idea what that's supposed to mean," he said sarcastically, "but I take it you're being insulting."

"_Charmingly_ insulting," she said between bites. "It's not like the scars really hurt your looks, anyway, you know," she said with a wink, hoping that she wasn't pushing too hard. Garrus's laugh reassured her that she wasn't.

"Charmingly insulting," Garrus agreed. "Not just anyone could get away with that, you know."

Shepard smiled, then sipped her coffee. "Cerberus must have known I'd pick an old team-mate up first, so I have to wonder why that file does say 'Archangel' and not 'Vakarian.' Is it possible they didn't know it was you?"

"With Cerberus's resources, I find that hard to believe."

"Huh, me too," she said, finishing her 'breakfast.' A third protein bar and some nutrient paste went into her pocket for later. Even when she wasn't throwing things around with her brain, her biotics burned too many calories for her to survive on coffee and dry rations unless she at least doubled her portions. The new Normandy had a decent mess, but sitting still for a meal was too much for anyone to ask of her, especially when there were high-calorie rations ready to hand. Fast, easy, predictable– even if that meant suffering through chocolate-peanut butter protein bars. Coffee took care of the flavor anyway. Mostly. "Well, maybe I'll just have to ask Miranda about it," Shepard said sardonically.

Garrus winced, "Have fun with that."

"Always do," she said unconvincingly as she turned to leave.

"Shepard," he called after her. When she turned back, he continued, "I know I already said this, but it's damn good to see you again, Commander."

"Likewise. It's good to know you'll be watching my six."

"Wouldn't have it any other way." Something in Garrus's tone made her smile. If he wasn't Turian, she would have thought he was flirting with her.


	3. Static

"Joker, how are you in that chair when I rack in, _and_ here before I make it to the bridge in the morning? Tell me you don't sleep here."

"Uh, sure, Commander. I don't sleep here. Ever. Man, what kind of weirdo do you think I am?"

"Let's not go there. Everything running smooth?"

"Like a dream. So, don't hate me for asking, but what's with the windows?"

"Excuse me?" she said, her stomach flipping. She thought she'd gotten rid of all the monitoring devices Cerberus planted in the Captain's cabin.

"The shutters up there on the top deck," Joker elaborated. "Every time you open or close them, my console pings. As it happens, that's a lot. All night. Every night. What's with that?"

"Why does it do that?" she demanded, ignoring his questions.

"Windows are weak points, Commander. EDI can close everything down in a fraction of a second, and she will, but apparently Cerberus decided to code an alarm into the system just in case someone needs to do it manually."

"Damn. EDI_ will _take care of it, though?"

"Yep. Unless she's offline, but if she's offline and we need the shutters closed we're in deep shit anyway."

"Then disable the alert, or make it silent."

"Commander?"

"It's private."

"Uh, okay. I'll get on that. Not that I can say I understand how opening and closing the damn shutters up there could possibly be a private matter, but I sure wouldn't want to violate your privacy."

"Joker?"

"Commander?"

"Got something to say?"

"No, ma'am." Joker shifted in his padded leather seat, then sighed, "Okay, yeah." He spun around to face her, "Look, I beat myself up about... what happened to you for two damn years. The Alliance grounded me for it– said I wasn't fit for duty, but it wasn't ever that. Looking out there, at all that," he said with a wave toward the viewports– shutters rolled back, of course– "was always one of the best parts of this job. Then suddenly it wasn't anymore, because after losing the Normandy, it... never looked empty, and that was my fault. You know what I mean?"

"It wasn't your fault, Joker. And, look," she said, holding her arms wide, "I'm all better now, and we've got a new and improved Normandy. No harm, no foul." Shepard didn't let her mind drift to everything she had lost in the two years it took Cerberus to piece her back together. Joker needed to believe the slate was clean. He _deserved_ to believe it.

"I can't begin to tell you how glad I am to hear you say that, but _not my point_. I'm just saying that if it messed with _me_ that much..."

"Stop right there. You had a radio that day, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Joker said, his reply subdued.

"Did you listen?"

"Until the comms cut out," he answered grimly. "The static that hit when you... it was a nightmare, Commander."

"Before that, did you hear me cry or curse or scream?"

"No. I heard you breathing, but that's about it."

"Exactly."

Joker's lips pressed together and he shook his head, "The pod had viewports. I could see you, Commander. You weren't calm."

"Did you think I'd just give up? I was angry because I knew I was out of the fight. I had to try to do _something_, though."

"Coming from anyone else, I'd call bullshit, Commander."

"Coming from anyone else, you'd probably be right. Glad we understand each other. Now, disable the alert so I don't have to worry about disrupting your sleep, and let's not talk about this again."

"Sure thing, Commander. Good talk"


	4. Liability

Shepard wondered if she should have told Joker the truth, or Garrus, though how she might have broached the subject was beyond her. _'So, Vakarian, I haven't slept soundly since I woke up in Cerberus's lab. Mind if I tell you why? It's really eating me up. The sight of deep space _terrifies_ me. Yep. And I'm in command of the ship, as we fly through deep space. Thanks for listening. Good talk.' Yeah, that'd go well. Why him anyway? Joker already _knows_, or thinks he does. And so does EDI, probably. Damn. My _ship_ knows. I'm done with this. Shutters stay open. I will _not_ be a slave to fear._

She was determined, but the beast refused to be broken. A week later, she gave in and finally closed the shutters. It was the first night she'd been able to sleep more than a few fitful hours.

"Commander," Joker greeted when she reached the bridge the next morning. "What are you smiling about?"

"Am I smiling? I'm not smiling."

"Maybe you just look a bit less like the living dead than you have in a while. Finally get some sleep?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but, yeah. I'd almost forgotten what it feels like to have something other than caffeine and willpower to keep me going."

"I bet. Anything to do with you finally closing the windows? Because I did what you told me, but then I stopped getting any alerts at all, so I tried to reset the parameters, but still nothing for, like, a week. Then last night, you closed the shutters. Woke me up right as I was drifting off, too."

"Are you suggesting something?"

"Well, if I am, I'm not judging. And I'd like to note that it completely makes sense."

She clenched her jaw but when she spoke, her tone was casual, "Okay. I admit it, the light bothers me. That what you were looking for?"

"Uh, sure, Commander. I'll just... stop talking, now."

"Hang on a minute, Joker. You remember what it was like when the Alliance grounded you?"

Joker paled, "Worst feeling in the world. Well, almost." He turned to face her, worry plain in his expression. "Commander?" the concern in his tone made it clear he thought she might be threatening him.

"Would you wish that on someone else? Someone you respected, maybe someone you owed your life to... someone who got spaced in a damaged hardsuit while saving your sorry ass?"

"I..." Joker finally got it, his eyes went wide with the realization. "Shit. Not another word, I swear, Shep. I'm sorry. I was trying to help, I didn't even think."

"Glad we understand one another. And it's 'Commander,' we're on duty."

"Commander," he corrected. "Sorry ma'am."

"Joker? Thanks. It means a lot. And if I thought it was a problem... a liability, you know I'd step down."

"And leave us in whose hands? Miranda's? Jacob's? No thanks. I've already forgotten what we're even talking about."


	5. All In

Jacob flicked a glance over his shoulder before turning back to the weapons bench and his current project. "Shepard," he greeted, wishing she'd act more like a real commander and stop trying to socialize with the crew in her free time.

"Got a few minutes to talk?" Shepard didn't wait for an answer before hopping up to sit on the table behind him. He tried not to sigh as he set the soldering iron carefully on its stand.

"I got time," he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to face her, "but talking isn't going to help us stop the Collectors."

"Huh. Well, I disagree."

"Then you've got a screw loose, if you'll pardon me saying so, ma'am."

"Never studied Sun Tzu, then, eh? _If you know neither yourself nor your enemy, you will succumb in every battle_," she quoted. "The big flaw in The Illusive Man's plan is that this team I'm building is virtually a bunch of strangers. We don't know ourselves, and the enemy is mostly an enigma. We're going to lose."

"Well, the boss said it was a long shot from the get-go. I don't know why he'd waste so many credits and resources bringing you back if even _you_ don't think you can win this."

She clucked her tongue, "Didn't say _that_. That's why we're talking. That's why we're _not_ flinging ourselves through the Omega 4 relay, even though we know that's where we're headed. Maybe we'll learn more about the Collectors while we learn about ourselves."

"Do you think that's enough to succeed? It's all just a matter of intel?"

"Intel and _Commander fucking Shepard_," she said grandiosely, arms flung wide. "You're looking at an instant win, Jacob. Why else would Cerberus spend billions to bring one soldier back from the dead? How many living soldiers could that much cash have trained up and outfitted?" He hoped the blatant arrogance in her tone and posture were meant to be ironic or deliberately exaggerated, but he suspected they weren't.

_Back it up, 'Commander fucking Shepard,'_ he thought with more than a hint of annoyance._ Your last big win was Saren, and then you got sent out to the terminus and you got yourself killed._ He swallowed his emotions and raised an eyebrow. "I've asked myself that same question. You really think you got it?"

The bravado he found so repellant melted away. She looked tired, and for a moment so fleeting he might have imagined it, there was a haunted look in her eyes, but her confidence didn't fade and when she spoke, he thought he might have imagined it. "Do I have any choice?" she asked. "I doubt anyone else is waiting in the wings to face off with the collectors and do what it takes to end them if I don't deliver, so I'll deliver."

"Point," he conceded, appreciating her honesty and liking the less arrogant version of her self-assurance. She smiled, and even with the half-healed scars and the homebrew haircut, he could suddenly understand why Miranda was practically radiating jealousy now that Shepard was back among the living. _Can't hide good genes. I wonder if she always looked like this?_

"So, when are you off the clock?"

"Two more hours," he answered warily. The last thing he needed was another distraction– another failed relationship– on this ship. "Why?"

"Poker night in the starboard lounge. We're starting now, but show up and we'll deal you in," she said, hopping off the table and turning away, as if delivering the invitation was the logical end of the conversation.

"I'm not much of a gambler," he said stonily, stopping her mid-stride. She turned back and leaned against the table– couldn't she speak to him without it's support? The thought brought a ghost of a smile to his lips.

"It's more than drinks and cards," she said, her eyes boring into his. "Do me a favor and play a few hands before you rack in tonight."

He held her gaze and tried not to shudder when he realized her eyes were glowing. _How the hell is she supposed to 'know herself' when she has no idea what the scientists did to her to bring her back? _"So I'm supposed to believe 'poker night' is part of 'knowing yourself' or something?"

Shepard snapped her fingers and poked her index finger at his chest, "Now you're getting it."

"Alright, I'm in," he said, wondering why he'd just agreed. _Normally being poked is a deal breaker, but I guess there's an exception for Shepard's poker night. _He cracked a smile at the pun despite his best efforts, and she smiled back. Having noticed her artificial eyes made it less dazzling this time, but he still wondered why someone like her ever became a soldier in the first place. _Good genes, indeed._ "So, we done here?"

"Sure, Jacob," she said, shoving herself away from the table and turning away. "Good talk."


	6. Skyllian Five

_Author's note: Please notice that the rating on this story has been changed from T to M as of last chapter due to language and alcohol consumption. I can't guarantee I'll remember to post warnings about content in the future, but it's probably safe to assume more language as the rest of the crew is picked up (Jack, looking at you) and also safe to assume there will be violence and sex as well. But, come on, you played the game, right? Enjoy._

Jacob triumphantly jabbed the button that would reveal his cards to the rest of the players, generating varied responses from around the table, "That's right, read 'em and weep. Looks like there's finally a winner at the table."

"Congratulations, Jacob. That was well-played," Miranda said before turning to Shepard, "With how insistent you were that we should all come play, Commander, I was certain you'd be dominating the game."

"No shit," Jacob agreed, finishing the last shot of whiskey in his glass. "I'm downright _disappointed_ in these results. You think you're hot stuff, Shepard, but you can't even beat an amateur like me at your own game."

"Stow it, Taylor. We're here to have fun," Shepard said, her expression a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

Garrus shook his head. "Ah, I wondered when someone would start gloating. Bad idea, in case anyone was wondering."

"Why?" he asked flippantly. "She's getting _owned_. Until the last hand, no one was down by more than a handful of credits. Now she's almost in the red, and she started with three times as much as anyone else at the table."

"Oh, this is spooky," Joker said, his eyes flicking suspiciously toward Shepard, who wore a small smile and said nothing. "Suddenly things are making a lot more sense."

"Interesting," Mordin stated, tapping his lower lip, "Statistically improbable situation. Mr. Taylor's assessment not entirely accurate. Each player has been up, and down by significant sums. Especially early in game. But heavy loss always shortly offset by large win. Had theory," his eyes fixed on Shepard, who shot him a quick wink, "believe have received confirmation."

"What, you think the Commander's manipulating the entire game?" Zaeed said incredulously. The veteran mercenary's mismatched eyes narrowed in suspicion, "Well, Shepard sure as hell ain't manipulating _me_."

"You might wish to listen to Vakarian and professor Solus, gentlemen," Dr. Chakwas advised from the sidelines. She sipped her drink calmly before continuing, "Otherwise, this might get ugly."

"Not a chance," Miranda said with certainty. "Massani is right. This is a complex game and I doubt even Commander Shepard could do what you're suggesting, Mordin."

"Difficult to believe, yes," the salarian conceded, thoughtful.

"Good team you've got, Shep. I can see why you want to track the rest of them down," Jacob said, knocking back another double-shot whiskey. "Got em all backing up your skills to try and intimidate the rest of us. I'm not buying it, though."

"Watch it, Mr. Taylor, or the gloves come off," Shepard warned, pouring herself a shot of something blue.

"Ooh, I'm shaking. I nearly cleaned you out in one hand and now I've got your tells figured out. I'll bet half of this," he said, gesturing at his pile of chips, "that you can't hold your own for another hour." He crossed his arms over his chest and locked eyes with the Commander, who met his gaze evenly. Shepard tossed back her drink, then laced her fingers together and stretched as she leaned back in her chair.

Garrus shook his head, "Oh boy. Hell of a time to grow a quad, Jacob. Well, it was nice knowing you," the turian muttered. "Mind if I call it a night, Shepard?"

"Stay and watch for a while and I won't mind if you don't want your ass handed to you. Anyone else out? Joker?"

"Nah, Cerberus pays better than the Alliance and I've been missing the old days, anyway."

"Okay, but don't even think about trying to bet articles of clothing when you're out of credits. I had to donate them last time because they don't fit me."

"Right, you just had to bring that up, didn't you?" Joker said with a laugh.

"You're all talk, Shepard," Jacob said, heading off any further nostalgia. "Someone deal and let's expose this fraud."

"Wow, okay," Joker said, holding his hands up, "I thought you biotics were supposed to handle liquor better than the rest of us– amped metabolism and all. With that in mind, I guess I'm just glad you _are_ a biotic"

"What're you saying, Mr. Glass?" Jacob asked, setting an elbow on the table and leaning forward.

Joker rolled his eyes, "Oh, that's original. Did Cerberus teach you to think at a schoolyard level or was that part of Alliance training they let pilots skip? And I think you just proved my point."

"Keep it civil, gentlemen," Shepard said, not looking at either of them, but no one mistook the command in her tone.

"Alright, sorry Joker. That was a low-blow and I shouldn't have gone there."

"No hard feelings. Can't say Shep feels the same about being called a _fraud_, though," the pilot said, his eyes flicking toward the Commander. "But, hey, she's a big girl, if you hurt her feelings she'll make sure to let you know. Deal us up already, Miranda," Joker prompted. Miranda sighed and leaned forward to hit the button for a fresh hand of holographic cards.

* * *

"No way," Jacob denied. "There is no _way_ you got the one hand that could beat me!"

"Uh, looks like she did," Joker said, laughing.

"Cool it, Taylor," Shepard soothed. "This is just a friendly game. I'm sure your bank account can handle it, and maybe you'll do better next round."

"Shepard's great with long odds," Garrus said, his mandibles raised in amusement. "Take it like a man."

"No, I don't believe it," Jacob insisted. "Solus, what are the odds of that happening two hands after 'the gloves came off'?"

"Bloody unlikely," Zaeed muttered under his breath.

"Improbable," the salarian conceded, firing up his omni-tool to examine the poker table's program, "but not impossible. Uncommon good luck."

"Nice one, Shep. You really had me going for a while there," Jacob said, barely keeping a smile over his frustration and anger, "but that hand gave it away. You must have hacked the table. Mordin'll find it, and then you're going to fess up and pay everyone back."

"Hey, captain testosterone, EDI's been running this program the whole time," Joker said before Shepard could reply, clearly offended at the implication that EDI would cheat.

"True," Mordin agreed, shutting down his omni-tool. "Poker algorithms nonexistent in local memory. Game most likely processed by ship AI. Can't examine code without security clearance."

"Wait, what?" Miranda questioned, suddenly looking very disturbed. "EDI, did you have an arrangement with Commander Shepard or manipulate the odds of the cards being dealt in any way?"

"No, Miranda," the AI answered, "The possibility had not occurred to me, but if it had, I would not have given away the fact with such an obvious improbability. Commander Shepard is very lucky, and very skilled at this game."

"I don't believe it," Jacob said bitterly.

"Anyone got a pack of cards?" Shepard asked. "We can do this the old fashioned way, but I've gotta warn you that I'll wring you even harder with real cards."

"Yeah, I'm not buying that," Jacob said, shaking his head. "Who's got the cards? Zaeed?"

"Give me a few minutes," the grizzled mercenary said, standing up.

"Don't bother, I've got some in the medical bay," Dr. Chakwas offered. "And they're still sealed, before anyone makes the suggestion that I'd help the commander cheat," she said over her shoulder as she left to retrieve the cards.

"Good," Jacob said. "You sweating, Shepard? We finally caught on and called your bluff. Even your own people want to see you go down."

Shepard crossed her arms over her chest, "You're really convinced, aren't you, Jacob? Why's this so important to you? Isn't it better if I _am_ just that good?"

He shook his head angrily, "No one is that good, Shepard. Lying about it doesn't make it so, and believing a lie doesn't help your team."

"Alright. When this is over, you're going to be doing a lot of apologizing, Mr. Taylor."

"If you keep this shit up, I'll kiss your goddamn boots, Ma'am."

"No, you won't, Jacob. Public humiliation is bad for morale. A thorough apology will be enough, from you and everyone else who's calling me a cheat."

"Well don't hold your breath for any of that. Playing us when we're on to you isn't going to be easy, Shepard, even if you're half as good as you pretend. Why don't you have another drink? At least then you'll be able to claim an excuse for losing other than your rigged program being found out."

"Why not, if you're drinking too? As a matter of fact, everyone who's playing, take a shot. This is getting way too serious."

"One more?" Shepard asked with a smile. "Miranda, you've still got a few chips left." The Illusive Man's agent shook her head and pushed away from the table. "Well, Joker, you're still doing alright. How about it?"

"Are you kidding? I'm down three quarters of what I put on the table. I'm out."

"Mordin?"

"Hmm," the scientist contemplated. "I think not. Amusing display. Point made, and taken. Well done, Commander. Must return to lab. Experiments running, need attention." The salarian nodded and left the room.

"So, how long do you think it'll be before Jacob calms down?" Shepard asked no one in particular. The biotic had left without a word, but dark energy sparked around his hands as he stormed out. Not a good sign.

"Don't hold your breath, Sweetheart, it'll be a while." Zaeed said with a chuckle.

"How much did he lose tonight?" Garrus asked. "He had more on the table than I've had to live on in the past two years, I think. That's got to hurt."

"Nah, someone like him's got nothing to spend his pay on. Probably barely put a dent in the bastard's bank account," Zaeed argued as he rose from his seat. He turned to Shepard, "I had no idea you were such a card sharp. It's humbling being beaten by a player half my age. Bring that kind of strategy and manipulation to the battlefield and I think we'll do alright." He turned back to Garrus, "Grab yourself some dextro booze and show me what you've been doing with the guns on this bird, Turian. You're probably good but I've seen ten times as much of the galaxy as you have. Might have a pointer or two for you." He carried his glass and a fresh bottle out of the lounge with him, not waiting for Garrus's answer.

"Perfect," the turian muttered. "Thanks for the entertainment, Shepard. I'd better go protect my workstation."

"We should do this again," Joker said, collecting his remaining chips. "Maybe with lower stakes and less drama next time," he suggested as he stood up and carefully stretched before heading back to the cockpit.

Dr. Chakwas set her glass on the bar. "I hope some lessons were learned tonight. Commander, that was a legendary performance. Good night."

"One more for the road, Miranda?" Shepard asked when everyone else had cleared out. "Or is there something you want to discuss?"

"What in the hell was that?" Miranda spat, ignoring her questions.

"Right to it, then. You and Jacob forced my hand. I intended this game to end with everyone walking away with a few of my credits and all of their own."

"_I_ forced your hand? You're the one who made this into a spectacle and humiliated the rest of us."

"Your doing, Miranda. You supported and encouraged Jacob's belligerence. If this is a lasting problem for him, it's on your head for not trying to curb your lieutenant. He was taking queues from you, just like he always does. I don't like divided loyalties almost as much as I don't like a convoluted chain of command."

"Jacob's been my right hand for two years. Some time to adjust isn't unreasonable."

"He's not the only one who needs to make the adjustment. You have to be _my crew_ first, Cerberus second."

"I... I'm not used to taking orders, and I've never..."

"You've never had anyone in the room capable of topping you in just about every way that matters," Shepard unflinchingly finished for her.

Miranda scowled, "I wouldn't go _that_ far, Commander."

"Excuse me. Every way _you_ consider significant. I'm not here because I want to be, I'm here because I need to be, and I'm not competing."

"I'm not either," she said, looking away.

"Good. Then no one has to lose," Shepard said pointedly. "If it makes you feel better, consider that I wouldn't even be here without you. Everything I do is, in part, thanks to your effort and expertise."

"That's generous of you."

"Very. Now quit encouraging problems and trust in _my_ expertise or you and your lieutenant are off my damn ship."

"Understood," Miranda said stiffly. Shepard nodded, and when she stood to go, Miranda spoke again, "Shepard, I have to ask, did you hack the program or stack the deck?"

"I played the numbers and I played the people at the table. I didn't manipulate the deck."

"Incredible," she said, awe and a hint of suspicion written across her face. "I'll speak to Jacob. He won't be a problem."

"I'd rather talk to him myself, first."

"Give him some time to cool off, then. I don't think I've ever seen him lose his temper like that."

"Perfect," Shepard said, rising to her feet. "He'll be honest, then."

* * *

"Jacob, get your ass out here and talk to me," Shepard called as she entered the armory. "I know you're here because EDI can see you. I'm not here to pick a fight, but we need to settle this."

Jacob stalked out to meet her, "Here to have your boots kissed? Maybe you want me to aim a little higher and kiss your ass instead?"

"Cut the attitude. You're the one who's been calling me incompetent, a cheater, and a stuck-up bitch all evening. Suck it up and take your medicine. I beat you fair and square."

"You gonna throw me out an airlock or something if I don't fall into line? Maybe just a holding cell for a few days?"

"Damn straight I'll throw you in the brig, but only if you keep this shit up and make me do it. What's your problem?"

"Did you cheat?"

She held his gaze, "No, and I'm really beginning to resent that everyone keeps asking me that."

"Shit," he spat and began pacing.

"Talk to me, Jacob."

"I almost can't believe it, but I _know_ you're not lying. Miranda's going to dump the program and go over it with a fine-tooth comb, but she's not going to find anything, I know it. And if you were stacking the deck or hiding cards, it wouldn't have worked except when you were dealer. Besides, someone would have caught you. I made a complete _ass_ of myself."

"Glad you're finally coming around."

Jacob took a deep breath and straightened up, trimming his stance to a relaxed 'at ease.' "The Illusive Man was right, we need you. I apologize for my behavior this evening, and even more for doubting you. It won't happen again, Ma'am."

"Good. Why was it such a big deal to you, Jacob? You _really_ wanted it to be a trick."

"You run a tight ship, and you run it military. I'm not used to that, and it brings back all the reasons I left the Alliance. It's not easy going back to all that, even if it's mostly superficial."

"Get used to it and figure out where your loyalty lies. I said this to Miranda, too, but if you're part of this mission, you're my crew first, Cerberus or anything else second. _Distant_ second. Understood?"

"Loud and clear. You've given me a lot to think about, Commander."

"Alright. Don't take too long with that, time is precious. Goodnight, Jacob."

_Another author's note: Longer chapter this time, and it won't be the last. I'm still aiming for shorter chapters where possible, but sometimes it makes more sense to let them draw out a little. I hope no one minds. When I started writing this story, the first few scenes just sort of hit me and I didn't know where it was going (or where it came from) but it's turning out to be so much fun writing the support cast (which I hope I'm doing justice, they deserve it) and I've actually made the time to replay the series. I apologize for a few story/game inconsistencies thus far, and I'm going to take artistic license where necessary, but hopefully any discrepancies from here out are deliberate, not oversights. Long-winded way to say there's a lot more of this story coming, and I finally know where all this is going. As soon as my beta catches up to me and I put some polish on the next few chapters, they'll be up. Thanks for reading, adding to favorites, and following. Reviews would be nice, too.  
_


	7. Foundation

Shepard tapped her comms and tried to make out the faint, crackling message. She needn't have bothered. "They got what they came for. Colonists still on board." She already knew that. The colony and its inhabitants reminded her of Mindoir. The Collectors didn't kill, like the batarians, but she'd seen this story. She knew how it ended. She was too little, too late back then, too.

"No," Delan, the colonist who had been hiding in a bunker, shook his fist at the rapidly retreating ship, "don't let them get away!

"There's nothing we can do," Shepard intoned, still seeing the double image of Mindoir and Horizon. "They're gone."

"Half the colony's in there," the man cried. "They took Egan and Sam and... and Lilith. Do something!" he demanded frantically.

"I didn't want it to end this way," she grated out with false patience, as she banished her ghosts. She wondered what he thought she might possibly be able to do. "I did what I could."

Garrus understood, even though the colonist didn't. "More than most, Shepard," the turian soothed.

"Shepard?" Delan repeated, narrowing his eyes. "Wait, I know that name. Sure, I remember you. You're some type of big Alliance hero."

She took a deep breath. She was used to being recognized, but right now, her reputation felt like a farce, and the way Delan said "hero" made her want to hit something. She knew she wasn't a hero. A butcher, a murderer, a cold, heartless bitch? Absolutely. Sometimes that's what the galaxy needed and in their gratitude, they got confused about what they were looking at. Of course, sometimes they didn't. She got called butcher as often as hero, at least before Saren and Soverign, but she deserved _that _title, bought it with the blood of friend and foe alike. This time she wasn't going to let the mistake slide. She opened her mouth to correct him, but she never spoke a word.

"Commander Shepard," a familiar voice intoned. Her eyes snapped to him, everything about him– his voice, the way he said her name, his walk– was like coming home. He didn't look at her, he was talking to the colonist. "Captain of the Normandy, first human Spectre, savior of the Citadel. You're in the presence of a legend Delan. And a ghost." _Now _he looked at her.

She knew, even before she set foot on the planet, that Kaidan was here, but she feared he'd been taken by the Collectors. Seeing him, almost close enough to touch, caused the cold fear and blind rage that she forced herself not to feel when she believed he might have been taken to come crashing down on her for a few heartbeats before her mind caught up and a surge of relief washed it all away. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember how to speak.

The colonist remembered, and saved her from needing to interact with Kaidan for a few more moments. He was angry, "All the good people we lost and _you_ get left behind. Figures. Screw this, I'm done with you Alliance types."

She opened her eyes, knowing her time was up. Kaidan stepped forward and almost smiled, and she couldn't help it, it was good to see him and she smiled like a fool. She knew it had been years for him, that he'd certainly moved on, but it only felt like a little over a month. The affair between them was still fresh. The moment stretched as he studied her face. The hint of a smile on his face faded as he took in her scars and the faint cybernetic glow beneath them and in the depths of her eyes. She didn't flinch from his scrutiny, but her own smile faded to nothing and she still couldn't speak. Suddenly, Kaidan grabbed her, wrapped his arms around her and crushed her against his chest. She threw her arms around him, ignoring the awkward armor between them. He turned his head into her hair and inhaled, and she breathed in his scent as well. Different soap and aftershave, but the sharp ozone from his biotics, gun oil, and underneath it all, the warm scent of his skin were all familiar. She wondered if there was anything the same about her– if he even remembered after two years. "I thought you were dead, Shepard," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "We all did."

He released her and stepped away, putting distance between them. She was left feeling bereft and in a heartbeat she could have believed she had imagined the embrace. He was waiting for her to speak and she heard the words coming out of her mouth before she knew she'd figured out what to say, "It's been too long, Kaidan. How have you been?" They weren't the right words, even though they sounded smooth and casual. That's not what you should say when someone watched you die two _years_ ago.

"Is that all you have to say?" he scoffed, putting another half step between them. "You show up after two years and just act like nothing happened?" He shook his head angrily and his expression darkened. When he spoke, he virtually yelled, "I thought we had something, Shepard. Something real. I _loved_ you. Thinking you were dead tore me apart, how could you put me through that? Why didn't you try to contact me? Why didn't you let me know you're alive?"

She was angry, now, too. "Not my choice. I spent the last two years in some kind of coma." She clenched her jaw, bit off the rest of her explanation. "You don't really think I could have lived through reentry and planetfall in a damaged hardsuit, do you? And then what? I just decided to change careers and cut all ties? No, it took two years to bring me back. I wanted to find you as soon as I woke up, but..."

"But what? Finish that sentence. What was more important than letting me know you're okay?"

Her hands curled into fists. _Anderson didn't trust me– no, he didn't trust _us_ enough to let me get a message to you._ She hadn't pushed when she visited the Citadel. Anderson almost convinced her that he still trusted her. She could tell he _wanted_ to, and she didn't want to face what it meant if he left her no doubt that he couldn't. _And now I pay for the comfort that gave me,_ she thought bitterly. Part of her wanted to explain everything to Kaidan, but she wouldn't let herself– not until he calmed down enough to actually hear what she had to say.

Instead, she said _the right thing_– this time right on target– in a tone much calmer than she thought she'd be able to manage, "So much time has passed, you've moved on. I don't want to reopen old wounds."

"I did move on," he said tersely. "At least I thought I did. But now we've got reports about you and Cerberus. I can't believe they were right about you... and Garrus, you too."

Garrus, standing behind her and to the right, shifted. "Reports?" he asked. "You mean you already knew?"

Shepard silently finished the thought for him: _You already knew and you didn't try to get in contact? You already knew and you're still this angry?_ It didn't matter. Right now, knowing Garrus was at her back, and knowing that she had a chance to win Kaidan over was all that mattered.

Kaidan glanced at the turian, then turned his full attention back to Shepard. "Alliance Intel thought Cerberus might be behind the missing human colonies. I got a tip this colony might be the next one to get hit. Anderson stonewalled me, but there were rumors that you weren't dead– that you were working for the enemy."

_The enemy._ Those words hit hard. She set her jaw and the emotions clicked off to be dealt with later. "Our colonies are disappearing. The Alliance turned its back on them. Cerberus is the only group willing to do something about it."

"Shepard, he already knew," Garrus reminded, quietly. A silent moment passed as she tried to understand why he was repeating himself.

She blinked, suddenly realizing what Garrus meant. "Building the defense towers was just a cover story. The Alliance sent you here to investigate _me_, didn't they?"

"I was here for Cerberus," he clarified, his tone bitter. "You were just a rumor. I wanted to believe the rumors that you were alive, but I never expected anything like this. You turned your back on everything we believed in. You betrayed the Alliance. You betrayed _me_."

"Kaidan, you know me," she said, relieved there was more steel than pleading in her tone. "You know I'd only do this for the right reason. You saw it yourself– the Collectors are targeting human colonies, and they're working with the Reapers. Instead of actually helping this colony, the Alliance sent you here to do what? To die with the colonists? To watch the Collectors, or, if you believe the lines you've been fed, to watch _Cerberus_ abduct everyone? Someone _has_ to stop this, and no one else is stepping up. I'm using Cerberus resources, and my goal coincides with theirs, but I don't answer to them."

"I want to believe you, Shepard, but I don't trust Cerberus. And how can you be sure that's not just what they want you to believe? They could be using the threat of a Reaper to manipulate you." Shepard's anger flared again, and she barely heard the rest of Kaidan's argument. "What if they're behind it? What if they're working with the collectors?"

_The threat of a Reaper? Now even you don't fucking believe in Reapers, is that it? You've swallowed the council's propaganda and forgotten everything we saw? It could have been _you_ who made contact with the prothean beacon, Alenko, and then you wouldn't be able to forget._ After she woke up, when she learned what had happened, she hoped that those alien memories might have died when she did– that they hadn't been revived by Lazarus. But the nightmares were there when she fell asleep, keeping good company with the crushing terror of what lay just outside the ship's bulkheads. Death was not a new beginning, it was another scar. _Another mess of scars,_ she thought, picturing the seams that wouldn't heal spiderwebbing across her face_._

Garrus stepped closer to her. "Dammit, Kaidan, you're so focused on Cerberus that you're ignoring the real threat," the turian accused. She wondered if he was able to pick up on her distress, or if it was coincidence. Turians had better senses than humans, maybe it was something insane that tipped him off, like her scent changing to reflect her thoughts– he was standing downwind, she noted. Either way, his interjection was well-timed.

This was something she could work with– it was the foundation she needed, "You're letting how you feel about their history get in the way of the facts."

"Maybe," Kaidan said, nodding. His expression soured and his lip curled into a sneer, "Or maybe you feel like you owe Cerberus because they _saved_ you." The way he spat the word out– saved– spoke volumes about the guilt he felt about her death. It did nothing to curb the venom in his words, though. "Maybe _you're_ the one who's not thinking straight. You've changed, but I still know where my loyalties lie. I'm an Alliance soldier. Always will be. I've got to report back to the Citadel. They can decide if they believe your story or not." He turned his back on her and took three, four, five steps before she found her voice again.

"I could use someone like you on my crew, Kaidan," she called after him. "It'd be just like old times." The wrong words again. Too casual, too _easy._

He stopped. "No it _won't_," he snarled. He spun to face her, "I'll _never_ work for Cerberus." He took a deep breath and composed himself. "Goodbye, Shepard. And be careful." He walked away slowly, and the finality of his words drained the last dregs of her energy.

Garrus stepped closer again, this time she could hear his breath and the creak of his armor. He didn't reach out to touch her, as a human would have, but he drew a breath, preparing to speak and she didn't want to talk. She reached back and pushed the call button on her comms, "Joker, send a shuttle to pick us up. I've had enough of this colony."

The shuttle was waiting for them when they arrived at the LZ, even though it was only a short walk from the center of the colony. They boarded in silence and Shepard took a seat closest to the back where the engines were loudest, hoping to avoid conversation. Garrus sat across from her, so she closed her eyes and leaned her head back, hoping he'd understand.

"He's a stubborn ass, Shepard. You're doing the right thing."

"Am I? You had doubts at first. And somehow I feel like you wouldn't have been so willing to join up if I'd run into you a week or even a few days earlier than I did. Tell me if I'm wrong."

Garrus sighed and leaned back against the bulkhead, thinking. "Maybe you're right. If I still had my team when you showed up, I would have put it to them. I doubt they would have been in favor of abandoning our mission for a one-way-trip through the Omega 4 relay. We were doing good work on Omega."

Shepard nodded. She didn't want to put him on the defensive, though his admission cut deeply. "And you wouldn't have abandoned your team, not even for me."

"You're the one who taught me how vital it is to have loyalty and squad cohesion. It would have been a tough call. I'm not sure how it would have played out. Of course, without you showing up pretty much exactly when you did, I'd be dead now."

"Glad you're not. Give me some space, Garrus. I need to think."

"As long as it's thinking and not wallowing in self-doubt," Garrus agreed. "You haven't sold out, and the Reapers are real. Even Kaidan knows that, he just let his emotions get the better of him." She shot him an icy glare and he held his hands up in mock surrender. He didn't apologize, he just moved toward the cockpit. She couldn't make out the conversation, but Grunt's laughter rumbled through her chest like thunder. She liked the krogan, and hearing _someone_ laugh brightened the darkest shadows of her present mood.

* * *

_Author's note: Obligatory Horizon chapter complete. Next up: hijinx on Omega. I'm looking forward to the next bit. I hope I'm not the only one. :) Thanks, as always, for reviews, following and favoriting._


	8. Glow

_Author's note: Two chapters within hours? Yes, it seems so. I couldn't sit on this one because it was finished and the last one was pretty heavily laced with pre-packaged dialogue and such. I hate letting things rest like that. And these chapters, they just keep getting longer and longer! Hopefully that trend is _not_ going to continue. I could have broken this one up, but it didn't seem better that way, so I hope everyone will forgive the erratic chapter lengths throughout this story. I'm just loving Jack/Grunt/Zaeed here, too, by the way. Maybe it's just me. And that reminds me- major language warning here. Also alcohol, sexual themes, yadda, yadda. It's not the strongest of "M's" but it's more than in previous chapters. Thoughts? Feelings? Burning questions? Leave a review or PM. Thanks for reading. :)_

* * *

"Looks like someone's been having a good time," Jacob said when Shepard entered the armory. "Get any work done?"

"You checking up on me for Miranda or something?" Shepard replied, beginning the process of stowing her gear in her locker. "She's a better stalker than you are, you know."

"No, nothing like that. You've just got a certain glow that you didn't have when you left the ship. And you're _carrying_ half your armor. I'm going to go ahead and _assume_ things went well with Aria."

"I'm not glowing, Jacob. And, yes, they did."

"Ah, I get it," he said with a knowing smirk. "That why you went out to meet with her solo?"

Shepard laughed, "What makes you think I swing that way? No, I took care of business, then I realized I haven't had a drink in a while and decided to fix that."

Jacob's eyebrows rose, "Tell me you didn't order a drink at Afterlife."

"It was convenient. Why?"

"Jesus, are you stupid?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. "I'll assume you've had a bad experience there and let that slide if you apologize very fast."

"Meant nothing by it," he said, holding his hands up defensively. "Some of the bartenders _hate_ humans. Maybe it's just some kind of urban legend, but you really should order drinks elsewhere."

"Noted," Shepard said, rolling her eyes.

"So, that was a long drink and you're pretty sober, all things considered."

"Didn't drink much– hijinx ensued. Not saying it was enough to justify a _glow_, and Aria had better not have had anything to do with it, but..."

"Hah, I _knew _it. Looks good on you, Shepard. I hope you were careful about jackasses wielding cameras?"

She shrugged, unconcerned. "Coming back from the dead is probably bigger news than having a one-night stand, don't you think?"

"That depends. Was he human?"

"He was," she said, raising an eyebrow. "But now I want to know, would you report me to someone if he wasn't? Does the Illusive Man care if I sleep with an alien?"

"Look, I'm with Cerberus because they get the job done. You are too. I'm not a xenophobe, but aliens are a big deal to a lot of the other people in the organization, including some on this ship."

"Clearly. Funny that nearly everyone your boss wants me to recruit is an alien."

"They're not all aliens, but you do have a certain reputation."

"Xenophile. I know," Shepard said, waving a hand dismissively. "Maybe I should do something to earn it."

"You haven't really been listening, have you?"

"Listening, yes. Caring? No. EDI, can you send out a message to the crew for me?"

"With pleasure, Commander. What is the message?"

"Pleasure, huh? Then I'm guessing you're bored, EDI." Shepard commented quietly. She still wasn't certain what to make of the AI, and either it was evolving and making efforts to _humanize_ itself, or it was displaying a very human characteristic of warming up to the crew. "Cross reference the roster, anyone on non-essential duty is cleared for eight hours of shore leave, starting now. Include a list of precautions relevant to Omega. This is a rough station, but it's likely to be our main port of call, since the Council practically banished me to the terminus systems. We might as well get used to it. Jacob, talk to Miranda and get her to find a bonus for anyone who doesn't get leave this time. Double pay should be fine."

Jacob whistled, "That's awfully generous, Commander. She's going to tap your commission for it, I bet."

"Do it."

"Shall I inform the rest of the crew of their bonuses?" EDI asked.

"Yes, absolutely. Don't want any hard feelings about the duty roster. Now excuse me, I need to get ready," she said, leaving the armory.

* * *

Shepard ordered a beer and sat at the bar. She was a bit early, and she hated waiting, but it was probably a good skill to cultivate. The beer arrived and she hesitated before drinking, remembering Jacob's warning, but this was the same turian who had served her before and he didn't poison or drug her then. She drank.

"Commander," Joker greeted as he carefully took the stool beside her and set his own beer on the counter.

"Joker. You sure didn't waste time getting off the ship. Why are you smirking?"

"Me? I don't smirk."

"You're doing it. What? Is my hair sticking up?" she ran a hand through her tousled hair, realizing she was probably making any existing problem worse.

"Hah, no offense, but don't get me started on your hair, Shep. No, you're just kinda, you know... Find yourself a rebound?"

Her cheeks grew hot, "Dammit, shut up. Why does everyone think this is any of their business?"

"Uh-huh. Good for you, I say. And, if you happen to find some hot asari around here to hook up with, I'm sure I'll see the vids on the extranet soon enough. Then it's _everyone's_ business, if you know what I mean." He leaned close and dropped his voice to a whisper, "If it's Aria, you're my hero for _forever_. Again I mean. Okay, like, three times over at least. Please tell me it's Aria."

Shepard laughed, her embarrassment quickly forgotten, "Are you kidding? Women are crazy and _that _one... wow. Definitely not my type." She took a long pull from her mug.

"Aw, come on," Joker lamented. "Don't ruin the mental image. My carefully crafted mental image."

"Okay, getting creepy now. Have fun with the vids, but if there's an asari in them, it's fake or, I don't know, Cerberus popped out a clone or two while they were putting me back together." She checked the time and fidgeted. "Wouldn't put it past them," she absently added, shaking her head, "but it's going to be weird if I find out my clones are lesbians... Or whatever it is when you're into asari. They're not exactly female, I suppose. What _do_ you call a member of a unisex species?"

Joker cleared his throat. "Hot, usually. Don't make me think too much about it or you're going to ruin asari for me. So, you're, ah, looking a little nervous, there," Joker said, making the observation into a question.

"Meeting someone in ten. No big deal."

Joker took in her appearance, realizing she was dressed in civvies for once. "Wow, getting serious and going for a second date already?" She looked at him sharply and he cleared his throat, "Uh... Jacob might have said something when I asked about the occasion for the unscheduled leave. Before you go shattering his kneecaps, he wouldn't give me details, so I asked EDI and she played me a recording from the elevator."

Shepard sighed. A sentient ship took getting used to. The _SV1_ never spread rumors. "Not what I'd call a date, and it's now or never," she said, taking a drink. "We're shipping out in eight hours. Now, Joker, never speak to anyone of this conversation and I'll let you live."

"Yes, ma'am," he said before taking a sip of his beer. "And I was worried that getting laid might make you lose your edge," he said under his breath.

"Good to know I'm more than the sum of my sexual frustrations." She killed the last swig of her beer and stood up, "Stay out of trouble."

"Yup. I'll be right over there for the next two hours," he said pointing to a seat with an exquisite view of Afterlife's dancers, "then I'm back to the Normandy and fresh as a daisy for takeoff." He collected his barely touched drink and carefully made his way through the chaotic club.

* * *

"Knock it off, Princess," Zaeed said, shaking Jack's shoulder. She shoved him away and glared, but he didn't back down. "He's on the floor and bleeding, what more do you want?"

Jack paused, then slammed her boot into Grunt's face once more before flopping back onto her bar stool. "Fine. Think twice before you mess with a badass biotic bitch next time, you fucking reptile," she said, lifting her glass and finishing the drink.

"Aw, come on," Grunt said, smiling, "I think they're cute, and you let _him_ call you princess, tell me how that's better."

"Shut it, Junior," Zaeed interrupted, when Jack turned her angry glare on him. "You want a fight, find one somewhere else. You're ruining my evening."

"No, this is great!" Grunt happily argued. "I didn't think aliens could live like this. Drinks, fights, noise! These people think they're Krogan."

"One way of looking at it I suppose," the bounty hunter rumbled, smiling at the mental image of the patrons of afterlife head-butting and charging one another.

"Where's Shepard, anyway?" Jack demanded, drumming her fingers against the bar. "We're supposed to be leaving in an hour."

"Maybe Afterlife isn't the Commander's scene, or maybe she likes the upper level better. Heard something about her and Aria, you know," Zaeed said turning his attention back to watching the rest of the club. "Why are you so keen to catch up with her here, anyway? We'll all be on board the same goddamn ship in an hour anyway."

Jack rolled her shoulders, "There are things she and I are going to discuss and it'll go down better with a few drinks." She glanced sharply at the other human, "And why the fuck did I tell you that, old man?"

"Hell if I know, Princess."

Grunt grinned, "She's not coming back here... _Jack_."

"God dammit, what'd I tell you?" Jack said, slamming her palm against the bar and rounding on the krogan. "I'll break your plates this time! Aren't you bleeding enough?"

The krogan shrugged, unperturbed by the threat. "It's your name, isn't it? What am I supposed to call you?"

"You said 'Jack,' but you were thinking 'pyjak' again, you fucker!"

Grunt's slow chuckle rumbled like an avalanche, "Prove it, _Jack_."

"Stop it!" she roared, dark energy rolling around her hands impotently.

"Cool it, kiddies," Zaeed snarled. "The Commander doesn't want trouble, so don't start any."

"_He_ started it, you asshole. Don't fucking call me that again, I'm not a kid. And go get me another drink. That bastard turian bartender cut me off and I'm not even buzzed anymore. He doesn't believe me that my fucking biotics burn the alcohol out almost as fast as I can drink it."

"I don't buy that shit either, Princess. Take a look at your hands."

She looked down, "Yeah, so?" she said, shaking her hands and dimming the potential energy building up around them. "That supposed to prove something? It just happens when I get mad or amped up or something. Nothing to do with alcohol."

Grunt chuckled again, making Jack's lip curl. "So that just pops out whenever something gets you hot and bothered, eh? I got a similar problem, but alcohol definitely makes it happen more for me. C'mere," the krogan said, reaching for her, "I'll show, oof!" Zaeed's fist finished the krogan's sentence.

"You filthy, perverted bastard," the grizzled human began pulling his fist back to hit the krogan again. His jaw dropped when Grunt flew from his stool up into the air. The krogan hit the ceiling with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

"I can take care of myself," Jack grated out, keeping the struggling Krogan pinned to the ceiling.

"Right, I can see that. Let him down before you get us thrown out, Jack, that batarian bouncer's looking our way."

"Fine, then go get me a drink, Grandpa." The purplish glow vanished and Grunt fell back onto his stool, shattering it to pieces.

"Uhhh," Grunt moaned, picking himself up off the floor and dragging a replacement stool over. "I was just joking. Humans are disgusting, even you, Jack. So squishy," he shuddered. "I'd never let you touch my junk."

"Darn," she said, her tone sickly sweet and dripping with sarcasm. "I'd love to rip it off and cram it down your throat, which is what I'll do next time you..."

"Shut it, is that Shepard?" Zaeed stood up and squinted.

"She's with Garrus," Jack concluded once she pinpointed the Commander. "And the fucking cheerleader. What's she doing with _them_?"

"Looks passed out, they're carrying her," Grunt added, quickly losing interest.

"Shit. Jack, come with me. I think she ordered a drink from that batarian bartender."

"What about me?" Grunt rumbled, starting to follow despite the lack of invitation.

"You too, Junior. Things just took a turn for the worst. Do it quietly, but lock this place down until the Commander says otherwise," Zaeed said without looking back.

* * *

"I don't _care_ what he's doing," a familiar voice cut through the fog, and made her head feel like it was about to shatter to pieces. Shepard struggled to hold on to the words long enough to find their meaning. Miranda. But she was talking fast and Shepard struggled to keep up. "Bring Solus and get here fast, Jacob. Shepard needs a medical team _right now_ and we can't move her through Omega in this state."

Blearily, Shepard thought Miranda must be right. She hadn't felt this rough since her jetpack flight qualifications in the N7 training program. She banished the memory when she realized her mind was wandering. With more effort than seemed reasonable, she opened her eyes. Miranda was still talking, but all she could see was the blurry face of a middle aged human male. A stranger.

"Who the hell are you?" she croaked, and suddenly Miranda and Garrus entered her field of vision."

"Oh, thank god," Miranda said before turning away, continuing to give instructions over comms.

"What's going on?" Shepard asked, still struggling to grasp the situation.

"Shepard, I'm sorry," Garrus said, his tone heavy with concern. "I should have warned you."

"Warned me about what?" she asked, pushing herself off the floor. Her head swam and her muscles trembled, but most alarmingly, her eyes still wouldn't focus. The effort to rise made the headache scream through her skull and nearly put her back on the floor. She moved more carefully, but forced herself to a half-crouch. "How much did I drink?" She keyed up a dose of medi-gel and the pins-and-needles sensation flooding through her body curbed the headache and nausea, but made her feel like she was about to shake apart.

The stranger answered her question as Garrus helped her to her feet. "One drink. That's all it takes. Racist batarian bastard."

Shepard gritted her teeth, again wondering who the hell this human was, "One drink? Then what the hell happened?"

"Looks like you broke the first rule of Omega," the stranger said, falsely assuming that she was talking to him. "Don't order a drink at Afterlife if you're human."

_I thought the first rule was 'don't fuck with Aria,' _she thought acidly. Her dislike for the man was growing– probably more than he deserved, but she didn't feel too bad about it considering her physical condition. "That bartender tried to poison me?" Shepard said incredulously. She glanced to Garrus, who seemed nervous or guilty, maybe. _Why guilty, Garrus?_ A tendril of suspicion wound through her thoughts, but she shoved it aside. Garrus wouldn't harm her.

"Tried is the word," the civilian explained. He seemed to be enjoying the role of storyteller, and no one else was speaking up, so she listened, though she fantasized about putting a gun in his face or maybe just saying something that would make his blood freeze so he'd run away and leave her alone. It was a handy trick and she was good at it, but it sounded like a lot more effort than this guy was worth.

Instead, she listened. "As far as I know, you're the first human to survive it. Me and my friend, Jake, went there to celebrate our new shipping business. He got real drunk, then an hour later, he was puking blood."

"Why does he do it?" Shepard asked, angrier by the moment._ Fucking batarians. Do they exist to fuck with me or what?_ "Does he only target humans?"

"For now. A bunch of humans wiped out some batarians he knew a while back, or so I hear. So now he poisons every human he can, just for fun."

_And you watch, then come swooping in to commiserate with the victims' friends. _She wanted to punch him, but Miranda and Garrus accepted his presence and his storytelling without comment, so maybe that was out of line. She wasn't in a good place to be starting fights– at least not unnecessary ones. "I think I'll go give that bartender a taste of his own medicine," she said, her lips twisting into a sneer. _That_ was a very necessary fight.

The stranger laughed and rubbed his hands together, "He won't be expecting you, that's for sure. Give that batarian bastard what he deserves," the stranger said before walking away.

"Shepard, what are you thinking?" Miranda demanded. "Omega's virtually lawless, but that doesn't mean there won't be trouble."

"The guy's been doing this for a long time," Garrus added. "If I remember correctly, his name's Forvan. He was on my list, but either he's got friends or he's not someone you should be messing with."

"_I'm_ not someone he should have messed with," Shepard growled.

"That dose should have killed you and I can see you shaking..." Garrus protested.

"Just the medi-gel. So why _didn't_ you warn me, Garrus?"

"It wasn't deliberate," the turian said, recoiling in surprise at the implied accusation. "I didn't even think of it until you'd already left the Normandy and I couldn't find you. I let the rest of your crew know as soon as I found out a bunch of humans were going to be flooding Afterlife, looking for a good time– I had Miranda send out a memo. You should have gotten it too, actually. Check your omni-tool."

Shepard carefully shook her head. She'd ignored at least five message alerts since she left the ship because none were tagged urgent. "God, why am I being such an ass? Sorry, of course I didn't think you'd set me up. I saw you running over to me as soon as the bastard started pouring. My head's not clear and whatever that fucking batarian dosed me with is kicking my ass." An understatement. She felt like she was dying. Her heart fluttered in her chest, she couldn't keep herself from trembling, and her legs felt like they might buckle and drop her to the floor with every step. Her vision was still blurred and her hearing kept fading in and out. The medi-gel took care of the headache and the nausea, at least.

"Didn't get there in time, though," Garrus said, obviously still feeling guilty.

"You tried. And there was no harm done. No lasting harm. Well, hopefully," she corrected, trying to keep the tremors from showing.

"If you've survived it this long, you're in the clear," Miranda said, moving to her other side to help keep her steady. "Lethal doses are almost always fatal within moments, and as terrible as I'm sure you feel, you haven't started vomiting blood so I think you're handling it, but don't ask me how. Just take it easy and spend the night in med bay to be safe. You'll be fine," Miranda said, her voice soothing. The concern in her expression contradicted her tone, however.

"I saw a few of our people around the club," Shepard said, not wanting to dwell on her physical condition. "Think any of them saw what happened?"

"I know they did," Garrus confirmed. "Zaeed's probably got a gun pointed at that batarian– hopefully _under_ the bar. When we left, Jack had her eyes on the dancers– they're all asari– biotics, after all, and Grunt was headed for one of the bouncers. He looked like he'd already been in a fight, so maybe it was just for a friendly chat. Kelly was around, and a few of the other Cerberus crewmen... Didn't look like any of them were getting up to cause trouble, but some of them noticed us, and if they're still there, I'd wager they'll join in if you cause any yourself."

"I plan to, but hopefully it's not _that_ kind of trouble. You know, I should have just stopped while I was ahead. The past seven hours have been one shitstorm after another."

"You'll have to tell me about it," Garrus said. "There's a lot of scuttlebutt about you and some mystery... well, there's some debate about whether it's a man or a woman– maybe an asari– but it's generally agreed that you..."

"Don't want to talk about it," Shepard interrupted.

"I just thought that if there's any truth to it, it's good to know you're not hung up on Alenko. But I can't say I think it's a great idea to get involved with anyone you can dredge up on Omega."

"Hear, hear," Miranda agreed drily, earning a suspicious glance from Garrus.

"Just a hookup," Shepard mumbled, oblivious to the exchange. "I'm not planning on seeing him again. I didn't even tell him my real name, though I'm pretty sure he knew who I was the whole time anyway. At least he certainly did when I went back. And I don't exactly regret it, but it was a mistake. Why can't things ever go smoothly?"

"Thought you didn't want to talk about it," Garrus said with a wink.

Shepard smiled, despite herself. "You're a bad influence on me. Not just anyone can pressure me into doing things I don't want to, Garrus."

"Ooh, now I feel powerful. I wonder how far that goes?" he contemplated.

"Maybe you should explore that," Shepard said with a smile. "It might get interesting, Vakarian."

"Alright," Miranda interjected, cutting the conversation short. "That's enough. We're almost there. You should probably walk on your own if you can, or you should leave well enough alone and let someone else take care of him."

"Who's going to do it if I don't?" Shepard asked. There was_ no way_ she would walk away from this without making that batarian pay. She slowed down a little so she didn't wobble so much as she walked. Thankfully the bar was close. Once she got there, she grabbed the edge of the counter with both hands and leaned forward, turning her weakness into an aggressive stance.

The batarian looked disgusted at her presence. "Do I know you?" he said with a smile that looked more like a grimace. "No, no," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Humans all look the same. Here, have a drink– on the house."

"Why don't you make it a double," she said, tilting her head toward Miranda.

The batarian blinked, two of his eyes flicked toward Miranda while the others stayed locked on Shepard. His smile widened, "That sounds like a great idea, why not?" He poured, then set the glasses on the bar and pushed them toward Shepard.

Shepard lifted a glass and studied it, the poured it out onto the bar, "I'm not going to drink your poison." She turned the glass upside down and kept it in her fist. "Neither is anyone else."

"Oh, crap," the batarian said, realizing his mistake. "How the hell did you survive? What are... what happens now?"

Shepard met his primary eyes and held his gaze. A short shake of the head and she gestured to the glass of blue liquid, indicating that she wanted him to drink it.

"What? But... you drank... you should be dead! Wait, you don't want me to...?"

"Now," she demanded. "Drink it."

"I, no, you can't... I..." His eyes darted around, but any help he might have been expecting or hoping for didn't come.

"Drink it, or I'll blind you one eye at a time," Shepard promised, her voice steel and ice as she turned the empty glass over in her hand. "Never done that with a shot glass before, but it looks like exactly the right size, don't you think? Bet it's going to hurt. Might take a few tries to get one out without fucking it up, but I've got four tries. I can probably get at least one out clean." The batarian stared at her for another moment, then snatched the untouched shot and knocked it back. The glass crashed to the bar and his legs buckled as he convulsed and green blood sprayed from his mouth. He was dead by the time his body hit the floor. Shepard pushed away from the bar and staggered, but Garrus's arm appeared around her waist, which was good– it was the only thing that kept her from falling.

"Stay with me, Commander."

"Uhhh, get me back to my ship," she groaned, struggling to keep her feet under her and her legs moving.

"What the hell is this?" Zaeed asked as they passed the dance floor. He fell into step and shook his head. "Walk it off, Commander. A little poison never hurt anyone."

"Tell that to the bartender, Zaeed. I think a little of his poison just liquified his insides. And you know what? I bet it hurt."

The scarred human chuckled, "Yeah, nice work there. I think you blew Grunt's mind, and Jack looked fucking orgasmic when that sack of shit dropped. What did you say to him, anyway? You don't even have a weapon, do you?"

Shepard brandished the empty shot glass and opened her mouth to explain, but before she answered, Jack sauntered over to them and interrupted, "That was _fucking_ amazing, Shepard. What the hell did you say to that son of a bitch?"

"I'll tell you later, Jack. Shore leave's over."

"Good thing, too," Jack said, eyeing her. "You look pretty fucked up. You know, if you can't handle your liquor, you shouldn't drink."

"I'm good with alcohol. Also a hell of a lot better with that batarian's poison than he was. Zaeed, get everyone rounded up and headed back to the ship. I don't want anyone left alone around here, not for a second."

"Fair enough. We'll get 'em all back safely." Zaeed turned and made eye contact with Jack, then Grunt, who had been inspecting the batarian bartender's body, and flashed a quick series of hand signals. "You want me with you in case anyone tries something?"

"Yes," Garrus answered before anyone could dismiss him.

"I can't remember the last time someone was this protective of me, Garrus," Shepard said, trying not to sound irritated. She knew he meant well, but it wasn't something she could suffer lightly. "That's different than having my back, you know."

"Maybe I'm just trying to make sure my own ass is covered. I'd have to drop you to defend myself, and I think you'd kill me if I did. And you're moving so slowly, I can't imagine making it back to the ship before someone either recognizes me as Archangel or decides taking out 'Commander _fucking_ Shepard' would be a nice feather in their cap."

"Maybe you should carry me, then," she snapped, wondering if he might.

Garrus chuckled, "You really want to get the rumors flying, don't you?"

"Do it, Vakarian," Miranda commanded. "We need to get her back and run her through a detox regime quickly. I'm concerned there may be permanent damage, otherwise. She seems to be deteriorating."

"Commander?" Garrus said, seeking confirmation.

"Not sure I can make it on my own," she said, almost laughing at the understatement. She couldn't even stand up without his support, obviously she couldn't make it back to the ship on her own. "But I'm not going to order you..."

"Shh, you don't have to," he said, carefully lifting her. "Watch my back, Zaeed. I don't think I've ever left myself this vulnerable on Omega."

"No one's going to fuck with us," the merc reassured. "I'm surprised they're not cheering or throwing credit chits or something."

"Well, that's one take on it. Let's hope you're right," the turian said, his doubt plain. "Damn, Shepard, I had no idea humans are so soft. I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"It's fine. I'm not soft, though. Don't call me soft," she mumbled, struggling to remain conscious.

"Yes, Ma'am," Garrus agreed, quickening his steps. "Next time you need me to carry you, wear your armor, though or I'll be thinking it," he added quietly.

"Shepard, are you alright?" Miranda asked.

"No," Shepard said, annoyed with Miranda for asking stupid questions. Part of her felt like she was being unreasonable, but it was too difficult to focus, so she didn't curb her response. "Fucking batarian poisoned me, remember? Killed him, even without my gun or biotics, though. Didn't even have to hit him. Bastard. I hate batarians. My first three kills were batarians. And the next three, too. Did you know that? Fucking batarians..."

"We're losing her," Miranda said worriedly. "Where the hell are Mordin and Jacob? They should have found us by now..."

Shepard tuned her out and closed her eyes. Garrus smelled like a lot of familiar things layered over a very alien scent– which made sense of course. She couldn't place it, and it was _strange_, but she liked it. Her mind was wandering, but she couldn't seem to focus. The voices around her turned into a dull drone, and she hoped she'd wake up again.


	9. Redline

"Come on Shepard, get up," Grunt's voice rumbled through her. "You're not dead." She might have imagined it, but he sounded like he wasn't certain of that last statement. She laughed, or tried to. The sound she made sounded like a choking gurgle.

"Say something, Commander," Jacob said. Someone shook her shoulder, making her struggle to keep her tenuous hold on consciousness.

"Hands off, idiot," she grated out. "Not helping." The pressure on her shoulder vanished. "Where?"

"We're almost back to the Normandy," Jacob replied.

She forced herself to her elbows, "Good. I'm good. Let's... go... Garrus?"

"I'm right here. Need a hand?"

"Mmhmm. Why'd we stop?"

"You, ah..."

"You had a seizure, Shepard," Miranda supplied. "Get her to sick bay, double time, Vakarian. Dr. Chakwas and professor Solus are ready and waiting for her."

"Yes, Ma'am," Garrus confirmed, carefully lifting Shepard. She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. "Hang on if you can, Shepard, and please tell me if you think you're going to hurl so I can get myself out of the way. You're looking awfully green around the gills."

"Pussy," Jack sneered. "What the fuck does that even mean– green around the gills? Is that some weird alien saying? What alien has gills, anyway? Everyone else is on the ship already, if you were wondering, Shepard. You were out _that long_."

"Move, everyone," Miranda snapped. The world fell away again after Garrus's second step.

* * *

There were insects buzzing around her. They were loud, big. Maybe humming birds. Shepard listened, tried to open her eyes– she hadn't seen a humming bird since she was on Earth for N7 training. It was too bright, so she closed them. The buzzing sounded more and more like words as she focused, not humming birds after all. Finally, the noises started making sense.

"Interesting reaction. Effects of toxicity curious. Bears further study."

"Absolutely not, you demented, hyperactive..."

"Operative Lawson, that will be enough," Dr. Chakwas interrupted. "I'm certain Mordin didn't intend to test on _Shepard_, and he's right. It was a very unusual reaction to that toxin. Understanding what happened could be valuable."

"Thank you, Dr. Chakwas. Of course wouldn't experiment on Shepard. Never experiment on sentient beings. Am a scientist, not a barbarian," the salarian sniffed indignantly. Shepard smiled. Mordin always cracked her up, but she couldn't say why. In this instance it might have had something to do with her mental image of Mordin in a horned helmet and a fur loincloth, trying to lift a bloody broadsword over his head, though.

"Look, she's waking up," Miranda said, her voice drifting closer.

"Commander, can you hear me?" Dr. Chakwas gently asked.

Shepard took a deep breath and cracked her eyes open once more. "Yeah, loud and clear," she mumbled, wincing as her own voice seemed to boom through her head, sending sharp spikes of agony through her skull. It was enough to dim her vision for a moment.

"Good to have you back," the doctor said, keeping her voice soft. "Try not to move, you're hooked up to a lot of equipment at the moment. You're going to be fine, but I believe you're going to have the mother of all headaches, and unfortunately I can't give you anything for it."

"Why not?" Shepard quietly asked, uncertain she would be heard, but unwilling to raise her voice any louder than a whisper. She'd had migraines before, and this one was all that and more.

Mordin answered. His voice wasn't nearly so quiet and he spoke so fast it was difficult for her to follow. "Liver, kidneys compromised. Analgesic adds stress to damaged organs, no secondary systems. Ridiculous design. Must take time to recover. Lucky you_ will_ recover, Shepard."

"It's really that bad? You can't even give me some aspirin or something?"

"Heavens, no!" Dr. Chakwas said, forgetting to keep her voice quiet. Shepard winced and when the doctor continued, she had lowered her voice once more. "Even if I had something so archaic– your stomach is already bleeding. I'm sorry, you're just going to have to recuperate and suffer through the headache. Is it bad?"

"Terrible. Unbearable, even. Are you done with me?"

"We've done all we can."

"Then turn the lights off and get the fuck out," Shepard miserably grumbled.

* * *

Shepard woke up feeling much better. Time had no meaning while the headache raged, but finally either it faded enough for her to fall asleep, or her body simply shut down to wait it out. Sick bay was dark, but Karin was working at her personal terminal in the corner. "Doc, can you get these machines off me and clear me for duty?" she called, startling the doctor.

"Commander, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Just a moment, I'll be right over."

"Sure. EDI, lights at fifty," she requested. The AI obliged and Shepard blinked as her eyes adjusted.

"You seem to be feeling much better, Commander."

"I am. Not back to my old, dead self, but pretty good."

"I wish you wouldn't say that. You're not dead, Jane," she said, locking eyes with Shepard.

"Ooh, using first names now, _Karin_?" Shepard countered.

"Only so you'll listen and take note," the doctor explained, checking the readouts on several instruments. "Can you sit up?"

Shepard obliged, careful not to move her arms too much. The medical cuffs circling her forearms kept several needles buried in her veins, but the idea of jostling them made her cringe. Dr. Chakwas noticed her ginger movements. "Still not a fan of needles, Shepard?"

"The only people who _are_ fond of them have got a serious problem, Doc."

"Fair enough." She removed both cuffs and methodically removed everything from her arms, bandaging the tiny punctures the equipment left behind.

"You've been asleep for about eighteen hours, and you got back from Omega about six hours before that. You're still going to need to take it easy, but I know better than to try and keep you here. Don't drink anything except water, and eat the food Gardner makes for you, I've given him a special menu for you. Your stomach can't handle your usual fare of coffee and dry rations, I'm afraid, and don't take any medications– even medi-gel– without my approval. Come in and let me look you over every cycle or if you have any pain or unusual symptoms."

"Yes, Ma'am. Clean bill of health, then?" Shepard asked, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.

"Hardly, but you're fit for light duty. _Light_ duty. Don't think you can suit up and go on one of your insane missions, Commander," she said, opening a drawer and revealing a clean set of Cerberus fatigues.

"Don't worry," Shepard said, reaching for the clothes, glad she wouldn't have to make the short walk to the elevator in a hospital gown. "I don't feel _that_ good. Karin, thanks. I should probably be dead."

"You should. But I think you have Cerberus's reconstruction to thank more than me. I helped, but Mordin and I agree that your body would have managed the toxins eventually without our help."

"That's very disturbing. But thanks anyway." Shepard tucked her shirt and left the med bay, her bare feet making no sound on the cold floors.

"Oh," Kelly chirped, nearly bumping into her as she rushed through the doors. "Commander Shepard, I was just coming to see you."

"Here I am, Kelly. Who's chasing you?"

"Um, I don't think anyone is, Ma'am," she said, fluttering her eyelashes. "I came to find you because Garrus just got a message that put a fire in his eyes. He's locked himself in the Battery, Commander. I really think you should go talk to him."

"Perfect. Thanks for keeping me updated, Kelly."

"Commander, I'm really glad that you're okay. You had us all worried."

"Get back to the CIC, I'll take care of Garrus. Hopefully wherever he found Sidonis is far enough away to give me a few days to rest up."

* * *

Garrus methodically unpacked his rifle and activated it as he settled himself on his perch. The crowd in the courtyard was sparse and Shepard hadn't made an appearance, yet. He gazed through the scope, randomly picking a target. _Human male, middle age. Limping. Left leg injured a long time ago. Probably former Alliance, judging by the haircut and his posture. Clothes are worn but clean. Carrying his lunch. Now, where's your spot, old man? You sit in the same place every day, I'd wager._ Garrus consulted his memory of the courtyard's layout as he carefully kept the crosshairs trained on the human's forehead, right between the eyes.

The safety was still on, of course, and his finger wasn't even on the trigger, but he loved this game– predicting his target's moves. And he was good at it. _Third bench down, near the end by the planter, not the garbage can,_ he silently predicted, still following the human's steps. The man went exactly where Garrus had anticipated. The seat allowed the man to have his back to a wall, and his eyes on the attractive storekeeper directly across the way.

He swung the scope away. _Next target. Asari. Late maiden stage. She wants her friend there to be more than that, but it'll never happen, will it?_ He switched targets. The second asari was moving around a lot more– she would be more of a challenge to keep a steady bead on. _Asari maiden. Mature for her age, but still just a kid. Looks like a pureblood, which is why she'd never consider mating with another Asari._ Every time the older asari leaned close or made physical contact, his target laughed, probably nervously, and rocked back. Garrus tracked her movements, keeping a steady line on her for a count of thirty, then moved on.

A krogan caused ripples through the sparse crowd, making him the next target. For a moment, the reactions seemed extreme to him._ No, not really, _he ammended. _That's a krogan. They're dangerous. Funny how running with Shepard makes the galaxy seem a little more tame._ He lined up the shot carefully. It would take half a dozen to drop the target, and the first was the most critical.

Garrus went through the motions of smoothly changing ammo. The loadout in the new clip was the same, but the exercise was important. Taking down a krogan was much more possible with polonium or incindiary rounds. Once the tiny soft spot between the chest plates was steadily in his crosshairs, he turned his attention to the krogan... he _knew_ the krogan. _Dren, you sorry bastard. How has C-Sec still not managed to lock you up._ He studied the criminal, taking in what was the same and what was different. _No new scars, but that garish tattoo is so fresh it's still raw. Clothes look expensive, well-cared for. Unusual for a krogan to have no patches in something that isn't made of kevlar or better. Who are you trying to impress, Dren, and what in the hell are you doing in this part of the Citadel?_

Garrus followed Dren's slow path across the courtyard, deciding he must be drunk or otherwise intoxicated. The krogan seemed to be taking in the sights– he was looking around an awful lot. _No, not enjoying the scenery, you're _lost_, Dren, aren't you? Drunk and lost and _painfully_ out of your element. Setup? Who'd you piss off, old boy? They want you pinched or dead or you wouldn't be showing that face here without more than a handgun and some flimsy civvies to keep you safe. That tattoo is as good as a target on your forehead. Now, when will you realize you don't know where the hell you are?_

The krogan stopped, as if on queue._ Nearest breakable object... garbage by the third bench. _Dren started laughing and looked around with new focus. _There we go, that's what you're looking for. Three, two, one... _The krogan slammed his fists together and charged, but Garrus was ready for him and lead the movement, but overshot the krogan's target by a hair. He cursed to himself as the krogan smashed into a garbage can– the human eating his lunch on the bench was showered with debris.

_Poor bastard. Not going to sit there tomorrow, are you? Leave it to a krogan to make a bad situation worse for himself just because he can. No wonder the galaxy wanted them all neutered._ The ruckus around the krogan grew, but no one dared to try and stop him as he smashed the bench, then moved on to the planter._ Reminds me of someone. Force of nature, no one will tell her no. Where the hell is Shepard, anyway? She should be getting into position..._

He scanned the courtyard for Shepard and found her just as she stalked to the meeting place. Her approach drew quite a bit of attention, but it was fleeting. She waved to someone– Garrus jerked his scope in that direction and immediately caught sight of Sidonis. His mandibles dropped and flickered in anger. The scum was sitting there, probably the whole time, and he hadn't even known. He was _playing a game_ when he could have simply taken Sidonis out without Shepard's help, without making her an accessory to murder. That krogan's antics would have been a good cover.

Sidonis walked over to her. "Alright, let's get this over with," the traitor's voice drifted over Shepard's comms.

"You're in my shot," Garrus hissed. "Move to the side." He kept the crosshairs lined up with Sidonis's left eye– or so he guessed. All he could see was the back of Shepard's head. She wasn't moving. Garrus lowered his aim. Shepard's shoulder could take the shot if she didn't move, and the bullet would pierce Sidonis's heart. _Give her a chance,_ he scolded himself. _I can't shoot through her, she's helping. She promised she'd help me do this._

"Listen, Sidonis, I'm here to help you," Shepard said, nearly stopping Garrus's heart.

_She's here to help _Sidonis? He silently raged, and carefully removed the safety and curled his taloned finger around the trigger.

"Don't ever say that name aloud," Sidonis said nervously, glancing around the courtyard.

Garrus almost laughed at the futility of the other turian's paranoia. _Too late, traitor. You're dead already, you just don't know it._

"I'm a friend of Garrus's. He wants you dead, but I'm hoping that's not necessary," Shepard explained, her tone grim.

"Garrus?" Sidonis recoiled and looked ready to bolt. "Is this some kind of joke?

"Damn it, Shepard, if he moves I'm taking the shot!" Garrus growled in frustration. What in the hell was she _thinking_?

"You're not kidding, are you?" Sidonis waveringly concluded. "Screw this. I'm not sticking around here to find out. Tell Garrus I had my own problems..."

Garrus started slowly exhaling, ready to take the shot. _Three, two... one. Run Sidonis. Run and die._

On queue, Sidonis turned away from Shepard, but before he could get far enough to clear the shot, Shepard's hand shot out and dragged him back toward her, "Don't move!"

Sidonis was half panicked. He flung her arm away, but he stopped, "Get off me!"

Shepard leaned close, "I'm the only thing standing between you and a hole in the head. Tell me why you did it before you die."

"Fuck. Look... I didn't want to do it, I didn't have a choice," Sidonis whined.

"Everyone has a choice," Garrus snapped, knowing only Shepard could hear.

"They got to me," the doomed turian continued. "Said they'd kill me if I didn't help. What was I supposed to do?"

"Let me take the shot, Shepard. He's a damn coward."

"You were supposed to die to protect your team, that's what. Eleven men were counting on you. Are you really worth all of them?"

"They didn't get Garrus, though. It was only..."

"They were his men. You did worse to him than kill him, and you know it."

"I know what I did. I know they died because of me, and I have to live with that. I wake up every night... sick... and sweating. Each of their faces staring at me... accusing me. I'm already a dead man. I don't sleep. Food has no taste. Some days I just want it to be over."

Shepard laughed harshly, "I'll see to it that your wish never comes true, you sorry son of a bitch. You're going to do it again, Sidonis. Every time you get close to people, you'll get them killed because of what you are, so get used to the feeling of _knowing_ you're a backstabbing coward, of being hunted. You _deserve_ to be hunted. You're not good enough to get away, so get used to getting caught. All that effort and _fear_ and it'll never be enough to save you. How many more times will you play all this out again before someone finally decides you're worth a bullet? That's the only important question left in your life."

"Step aside, Shepard," Garrus snarled. "Let me take the damned shot," he demanded. _Because if you don't, I might just shoot _through_ you and hope you can take it, you meddling human._ Shepard turned and glared directly at him. Her eyes met his through the scope. She shook her head sharply once, then stepped aside. He was clear, Sidonis was in his sights. He perfected his aim and slowly exhaled, his talon squeezing the trigger smoothly until he hit the tiny bit of resistance that he'd always thought of as the point of no return. His lungs emptied and his sights jumped predictably with his pulse, but he didn't add that last critical bit of pressure to the trigger. "Damn you, Shepard. Tell him he has fifteen seconds before I blow his head off."

"Good call, Vakarian," she said as she interposed herself once more. She must have turned her comms off, though, because he didn't hear what she said to make the piece of slime sprint across the courtyard and to safety. Garrus tracked him, then followed his imagined path once Sidonis was out of sight. The round in the chamber would pierce the flimsy shop walls easily, but of course he wouldn't risk hitting anyone _else_. The moment was gone. Sidonis was gone.

Shepard had saved _Sidonis_. Shepard, who made the tough calls like they were nothing, who could condemn men and women under her command to death without flinching, who _never_ showed mercy to the greedy, the ruthless, the cowardly. Shepard, the Butcher, who might not even know what _mercy_ was, now that he thought of it. When had she ever shown mercy to anyone if there weren't going to be direct consequences for _not_ doing so? Yet, Sidonis lived because of her.

Garrus ripped his visor off his face and roared, rage blinding him. Shepard's voice, faint and tiny now that he wasn't wearing his visor, drifted to him. She was concerned. He didn't give a damn. She had _betrayed_ his trust– she had manipulated him! _She'll deny it,_ he told himself, _but she can play anyone on her goddamn crew like a fiddle._ He snarled at the infiltration of yet another _human_ phrase into his thoughts– he didn't even know what a fiddle was, beyond it being some kind of musical instrument. Normally he was proud of how well he could blend in with human culture, but now, it infuriated him. _And she_ proved_ she can play all of us during that game of Skyllian Five,_ he continued silently. _Don't trust her. Don't believe her. Don't be a gullible fool,_ he demanded of himself. He ran the tip of his talon over the names etched into his visor. _I owe them that much. Shepard spat on _all_ of us._

The tiny voice was still talking. He didn't want Shepard coming up here after him, so he listened. "...back to the Normandy. Vakarian, acknowledge... Garrus, get your ass down here, the cab's waiting."

He lifted the visor closer to his face. "Right away, Ma'am," he stiffly confirmed before shutting off the comms and replacing his visor.

* * *

"I know you think you want to talk about this, Commander, but don't," he said, his voice a warning growl.

"It wasn't mercy, Garrus."

He turned to her, his mandibles held aggressively low and wide– he knew she understood what it meant– she was good at reading turian facial expressions. That she knew him so well that she could guess his thoughts so accurately just proved further that she had manipulated him. "Don't speak to me, Shepard. Sidonis is _alive_, and it's _your_ fault."

"You're the one who didn't pull the trigger. I _gave_ you a clear shot, Vakarian," she taunted.

"You_ gave_ me a fucking guilt trip, you _gave_ me every goddamned reason to hesitate– and _you knew it_, Commander."

Shepard's lips curled into a lopsided smile, "That bastard is going to go feed himself a bullet inside a week. Mark my words. You were going to give him an easy way out. He's not quite done suffering, yet. He hasn't hit bottom, but he's headed there– he's close. You sparing him is going to drive him to it. Not if he was a human, but since he's a turian, you signed his death warrant by doing nothing when you had him in your sights. Of course, my little talk helped."

"How the hell can you think you know that?"

She shrugged, "If I'm wrong, you can take it out of my hide. Or I'll come back here and correct the error myself. Hell, if I'm wrong, I _want_ to come back and waste that piece of shit."

"Bullshit! What makes you think we'll find out about it if he does, and how are we supposed to find him again if he doesn't? I asked for your help– I trusted you– and you blew the mission!"

In response, Shepard fired up her omni tool, tapped a few buttons, and showed him the display.

Garrus studied the grid for a moment, "You got a tracker on him?"

"Cerberus has some nice toys. I stuck it under the plate on his forearm when he tried to run. I doubt he'll lose it anytime soon. And look at this," she said, tapping a few more buttons. The grid displaying Sidonis's position was replaced by an oscilloscope. "It does audio, too. I'll send you the software and you can keep an eye on him. You can task EDI to monitor the feed if you want, too." She closed the program and entered his information to send it to him. His omnitool chimed receipt of a new message, but he ignored it for the moment.

"You manipulated me, and you ignored my wishes, Shepard," he accused, trying to keep his anger with her stoked. He was supposed to be the one to pull the trigger. He owed that much to his team.

"Guilty," she glibly conceded, obviously without feeling a shred of guilt. "My way is better, though. No murder to clean up or run away from, no tortured conscience later when you cool down and realize that essentially he was just a coward and not a calculating, murdering traitor."

"You'd have killed him in a heartbeat if you were in my position."

"I'm not you. I'm a Spectre, and _you_ are my conscience. I wouldn't have a second thought about killing him, but you'd torture yourself for the rest of your life. I would have let him linger, though. No quick death from the barrel of a mantis for him from me."

_I'm her conscience?_ he thought, stunned by the claim. "_If_ Sidonis does what you think he will... Well, we can talk then. You're one cold bitch, Shepard."

A cruel smile twisted her lips. "Guilty again," she sardonically admitted. The smile faded and her tone went flat, "Say the word and I'll be there."

"Fine," he grumbled. She was right. On all counts.


	10. Breaking Ties

"Shepard," Garrus greeted without even glancing over his shoulder. Human scents were difficult to keep straight, but he knew hers. "I was beginning to think my 'tool glitched and you never got my message."

"I got it. You just sounded like you were still pissed, so I thought maybe I should wait a bit. Have you got a minute?"

"Yeah," he said, logging out of his work station and turning to face her. "Just killing time anyway. But you're wrong, I'm not angry anymore. I wanted to thank you for your help with Sidonis. Somehow, you were right. Three days, in case you were wondering. Not sure how I feel about it now, to be honest, other than a little bit terrified of you," he said with a wink. He wasn't _that_ terrified, just... much more aware of how formidable this human actually was. "Anyway, whatever happens with the Collectors or the Reapers or whoever else comes after us, I know you'll get the job done. I'm sorry I ever doubted your motives or your methods."

"I shouldn't have been so heavy-handed, but there wasn't time. We're good, then?"

"The best, Shepard."

"That's a relief," she said, faintly smiling at him. "I couldn't do this without you, Garrus."

"Sure you could," he said with a wave. His mandibles flickered, "Not as stylishly, of course." Shepard's smile broadened, but she didn't seem to have much else to say. Garrus shifted his weight to one foot, searching for something to talk about. Shepard seemed to want more from him, and it made him tense trying to figure out what. Being surrounded by other species was something he was used to, but that didn't mean it was a relaxing setting. Cerberus anti-alien attitudes didn't help, though Shepard's influence seemed to mellow the worst of it. "You know," he began, deciding to simply voice his thoughts, "it's strange going into a suicide mission on a human ship. Your people don't prepare for high-risk operations the way Turians do."

"Oh?" Shepard quirked an eyebrow, "How do turian crews get ready for high-risk missions?"

"With violence, usually. Turian ships have more operational discipline than your Alliance, but fewer personal restrictions. Our commanders run us tight, and they know we need to blow off steam. Turian ships have training rooms for exercise, combat sims, even full-contact sparring. Whatever lets people work off stress."

"You mean turian ships have crewmen fighting each other before a mission? Sounds like my kind of party. There are a few people on this ship I'd love to have an excuse to beat the tar out of."

Garrus cleared his throat, not wanting Shepard to dwell on beating the daylights out of the Cerberus crew. "It's supervised, of course. Nobody is going to risk an injury that interferes with the mission. And it is a good way to settle grudges amicably. I remember right before one mission, we were about to hit a batarian pirate squad. Very risky. This recon scout and I had been at each other's throats. Nerves, mostly. She suggested we settle it in the ring."

"I assume you took her down gently?" Shepard supplied with a smile. She was enjoying the story, or maybe she was just glad he wasn't holding Sidonis against her anymore.

"Actually, she and I were the top-ranked hand-to-hand specialists on the ship. I had reach, but she had flexibility. It was brutal. After nine rounds, the judge called it a draw. There were a lot of unhappy betters in the training room. We, ah, ended up holding a tiebreaker in her quarters. I had reach, but she had flexibility. More than one way to work off stress, I guess."

"Damn, Garrus," she said, shaking her head and grinning. She sobered a little. "So be honest, what do you think our chances are?"

"Honestly? We're going to lose people, no way around that. Not a very optimistic assessment, I know, but don't worry, I'm not going to go spreading that around. And I'm with you, no matter what, Shepard."

"And this is why I like you so much, Garrus– someone else would have been blowing smoke up my ass instead of answering honestly. But I have to say, it sounds like you're carrying some tension. Maybe I could help you get rid of it," she said. The smile was back, but it was crooked as she stood up and walked slowly toward him.

His heart raced. This _couldn't _be what he thought it was. "I, uh, didn't think you'd feel like sparring, Commander," he said lightly, hoping she would clarify her intent. Either she was all but openly propositioning him, or she wanted the opportunity to hit him a few times for some reason. He didn't know which he should hope for.

Shepard circled him, openly sizing him up. "Well, you've got reach on me, but I bet my _flexibility_ makes up for it. What do you say? Shall we see how we match up?"

He swallowed hard. "Oh! I didn't... huh. Never knew you had a weakness for men with scars. But I'm not sure..."

"Come on, Garrus. Sure, I'll_ kick your ass_, but that's only the beginning. And think of how much better you'll feel when you don't have so much tension to carry around. I'll even leave my biotics off the table."

He let out a breath and flashed her a smile, "Well, why the hell not? There's nobody in this galaxy I respect more than you." He mentally kicked himself as soon as the words left his mouth. That wasn't the right thing to say, not even close. _Well, she said she likes me because I'm honest with her, and that's about the best I can come up with on the fly. I don't even know what a human would want to hear in this situation. Maybe it's for the best, I could still be reading this wrong and I'd never be able to show my face out of the battery again if I started talking about her waist or something..._

Shepard raised an eyebrow, "I guess that's good enough. This evening, then?"

"Uh, okay. Let's just make sure we're... careful."

"I make no promises, but I'll _try_ not to hurt you, Garrus. My hand-to-hand's a little rusty, so you probably stand a chance of beating me. I don't know why you're so nervous." Shepard smiled and brushed past him before he could gather his wits and muster a response.

_That did not just happen_, he thought, staring after her. _It couldn't have. Shit, why didn't I say no? This is going to ruin everything. What the hell is she thinking? Spirits... maybe she did just mean sparring... _He replayed the conversation in his mind, but he couldn't convince himself. Shepard wasn't stupid, and she _understood_ turians. She meant every word exactly as he'd initially interpreted. Garrus sank down on the bench by the doors and rested his face in his hands. _Research. I need to do some research. Spirits, she's so soft, I'm goiy her._ He activated his omnitool and got to work.

* * *

Shepard was already in the area of the cargo hold that was set aside for physical training when he arrived. "Sorry I'm late."

"Calibrations hold you up? Or are you having second thoughts?" She met his gaze and held it steadily. He couldn't decide if she was offering him a way to bow out or if she was just trying to provoke a reaction. It didn't matter– his answer was the same either way.

"I can take you, Shepard. They say that humans and turians are pretty evenly matched physically, but in my experience, your people are easy to intimidate in close quarters. And being female, you're not going to hit the same benchmarks that a male of your species would. Jacob or Zaeed might give me a run for my money, but you? You're small, and, let's face it, you're soft."

Shepard's eyes narrowed for a heartbeat before she shrugged off the insult."There you go, calling me soft again. I'll assume you're simply referring to my lack of a carapace, not a lack of mettle."

"If it'll make you feel better, you go right ahead and assume that, Shepard," he said with a patronizing chuckle, hoping to provoke her. Fighting Shepard mad wasn't a pleasant thought, but facing her when she was clear-headed would be a disaster.

"God, you're really asking for it," she said, the cheer in her tone coming across a little forced. He had succeeded. "I had no idea you were such a bigoted chauvinist, Vakarian. Step into the ring so I can beat you."

"Yes, Ma'am. Good luck with that." He stepped into the painted lines and dropped into a fighting stance. Shepard did likewise and rather than circle and size him up, she immediately took a jab right at his face– the scarred side, which meant it wasn't her dominant hand. It was a feint. He easily blocked her fist and the kick she aimed at his side.

The human danced away lightly. That was good, she wasn't out of his range, but her attacks wouldn't reach him unless she advanced again. Now they circled one another for a few moments, studying each other. Garrus sent a few swipes her way, but deliberately kept himself from fully extending, hoping to give her a false sense of security. It worked. Shepard inched closer, but before she could execute whatever plan of attack she had brewing, he lashed out, his curled fist connecting with the side of her face. Her head snapped to the side and before she recovered, he swept her legs. Shepard landed hard on the cold deck. Garrus moved to pin her, but she slipped away and rolled to her feet, a grin on her face.

The fight continued at a furious pace until both combatants were breathing hard. Garrus flicked a trickle of blood away from his mouth with a shake of his head. He could smell her blood on his face, though, so he knew she'd damaged herself when she hit him at least as much as she'd injured him. The scent was unexpectedly _distracting_– not just because he was worried about what damage it might do before he got it cleaned off– and he found he liked it.

Shepard apparently decided she needed to change tactics. She lunged forward, stepping on his foot to keep him from giving ground, and threw her elbow hard into his chest just below the bony ridge running down the center, driving out his breath and making the muscles seize for a few moments. Her hand darted out and caught his right mandible before he had an opportunity to recover, and rage colored his vision as her painful grip yanked his head to the side and threw off his balance. She drove her shoulder against him and he fell to the floor. Shepard threw herself on him, releasing his mandible so she could attempt to pin his limbs and force him to yield. _Big mistake, human,_ he viciously thought, easily breaking her grip and throwing her onto her back. His hand darted out and his talons circled her throat– carefully, of course, he didn't want to kill her.

It was the wrong move. Shepard ignored what in a real fight would have been a killing blow and savagely slammed her knee into the soft spot on his side. The human knew entirely too much about turian physiology. Garrus bit back a growl and abandoned his hold on her in favor of pinning her to the floor. At least, that was the plan. Somehow, Shepard got her leg folded between them and was slowly forcing him off her. How could human legs be so strong? He couldn't hold his grip on her much longer, but he wasn't going to give up. Turns out, he didn't have to– Shepard grunted, then heaved and threw him far enough off her to allow her to roll away. _Oh, no, you don't_, he thought, dodging a kick aimed at his face and snatching her ankle. He yanked hard and dragged her back, then threw his arm underneath hers and around her throat.

"Yield, Shepard," he demanded. The harsh growl in his voice surprised him, but there wasn't time to consider it now, so the information and its implications were tucked away for later. Shepard still struggled under him and she had managed to get her wrist into the crook of his elbow, but she didn't have the leverage she needed to break free. Still, he locked her into the hold with his other hand and squeezed harder to make his point.

"Fuck you, Garrus," she spat, arching her spine and dragging her leg underneath her. He repositioned his feet in anticipation of her attempt to roll them over and instead of flipping herself out from under him, he forced her to merely lift them off the floor.

_You're mine_, he thought triumphantly, flashing his leg forward and catching both her legs on his calf-spur. He quickly locked her legs in place with his. "You're done, human. Yield."

Shepard responded by sinking her teeth into his forearm. Somehow, those little omnivore teeth found the most tender part of his arm, and he was suddenly convinced they might be sharpened like the edge of a knife and not blunt as they appeared, and her _jaw strength_ was terrifying. "Stop!" he snarled, struggling against his impulse to drop her. She responded by jerking her head to the side and bearing down _even harder_. He felt something begin to tear and that was it– he let go. "Damned crazy bitch!" he shouted at her as she rolled to face him and shot her fist into his throat. He choked and released his spur-hold on her legs, and in a flash, she was away and back on her feet while he struggled to convince his throat to let him continue breathing.

Shepard spat on the floor, "Fucking dextro blood, tastes like goddamned candy," she cursed under her breath. "Yield, Vakarian," she panted. He might have if he was confident he could still speak, but Shepard wasn't patient. When he didn't immediately respond, she aimed a kick at his face, which he was expecting and managed to catch. He pulled her back to the deck, and Shepard fell badly, smacking the back of her head on the metal floor.

Before the bite and the sucker-punch to the throat, Garrus would have backed off and made sure she was okay. Now, though? Not a chance. He threw himself onto her, his knee landing on her chest. His fist was poised to slam into her face, "I'll yield when you do, Shepard."

Her eyes locked with his and the tension in her body almost convinced him to throw the punch and do his best to beat her. Almost. Finally, she relaxed. "Alright. Get off me, already," she said, pushing at his knee.

He pressed harder against her chest, "Say it, first."

Shepard cracked a smile, "Good, Vakarian. I yield if you do."

"Good enough, Shepard" he said with relief, lifting himself off her and offering her a hand up.

"Don't you mean Commander Crazy Bitch?" she said, almost pulling off a playful tone, but not quite. Shepard rubbed her chest and leaned forward to catch her breath. Garrus felt like doing the same, but pride kept him upright.

He almost apologized, but he stopped himself. Instead he inspected the slowly bleeding bite on his arm, "You fight dirty, Shepard."

"Damn straight. How else do you think I manage to win so often?"

"Don't tell me you think you won that," Garrus laughed.

"Maybe not as soundly as I'd like, but I think you're bleeding a little more, and I'm sure your bruises are going to last longer. Besides, I had to do something, you used your spurs on me. So much for an even playing field."

He hid his surprise when it sank in that he _had_ used his spurs... on his _human_ commanding officer. _What's wrong with me? Nothing about that is alright! Spirits, at least she's female... _He swallowed and tried not to let his distress show, "Hah! No offense, but Cerberus made you into a freak of nature, Shepard, of course you're going to heal faster than me. I think– maybe– we should call it a tie," he suggested, his heart beating faster. Now he'd find out if she really meant... what she had said to him earlier– it was the perfect opening. Shepard's smile widened and her eyes flicked over him. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or unnerved. Maybe using his spurs _wasn't_ entirely out of line.

"Alright," she said, the tones in her voice unfamiliar, and surprisingly pleasant. "Between us, it's a tie. If anyone asks, I kicked your ass into next week."

"I thought this was just a friendly sparring session. Why's it so important for you to win?"

"Isn't this how turians do friendly?" she asked, feigning innocense and taking slow, rolling steps toward him.

Garrus almost balked, but her tone gave him motivation to push a lot further than he would have dared, normally. He dropped his voice and enjoyed the knowledge that the lower subharmonics would likely have an _interesting_ effect on Shepard. "In situations like this, it's how turians do _foreplay_, Shepard, and you damn well know it." Most humans found tones in that range pleasing, if not arousing and judging by the flush on her face and the change in her scent, Shepard was one of the latter.

"_Very_ friendly, then," she conceded in those same, smoky tones, proving to him that turians certainly weren't the only species to use vocals to impressive effect. "So, what do you say? Tie-breaker in the captain's cabin?"

Garrus let himself study her for a moment. He'd never really looked at Shepard as a woman, only as his commanding officer and his friend. She was no turian, but at least she had the appeal of an asari. Roughly. Not his first choice, but workable, and humans were generally more primal and passionate than asari, so maybe this would be better. Shepard was one hell of a human. If she were turian, he'd probably be absolutely smitten. He shifted his weight so his posture would reflect his interest, just in case Shepard actually knew what to look for. "Definitely, but not right now. No offense, but I doubt you could handle it with the mood I'm in, and I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm not made of glass, Vakarian, and I think I just proved that. If you're not interested..."

"It isn't that," he interrupted, keeping tight reign on his impulse to pin her and... he didn't know what. She didn't have a fringe or mandibles, and that left him at a bit of a loss. He set the problem aside for later and cleared his throat. Shepard looked frustrated, so he explained, "It's not that I'm saying you're fragile, but even if you had a carapace I'd be a little worried. And then there's the dextro-levo thing. So in the interest of making sure both of us survive, let's do a little research first, shall we?" He released her and turned away. "Good fight," he called over his shoulder as he left the cargo bay. "If you're up for it, I could use a sparring partner more often– if you promise not to bite me again." Shepard laughed as she collapsed onto a crate filled with rock samples, then the doors slid shut behind him and cut off the sound.

* * *

"You wanted to see me?" Shepard asked as she sauntered into the battery.

Garrus hit the button on the console that would lock the door before speaking. "Yeah. I've been thinking about that tiebreaker. I've never considered cross-species intercourse. And damn, saying it that way doesn't help. Now I feel dirty and clinical. Are we crazy to even be thinking about this? I'm not... Look, Shepard, I know you can find something a little closer to home."

"Sure, if that's what I wanted. Look, I trust you, Garrus. That's rare, and I'd like to try this."

"I can do that. I'll find some music... and do some research to figure out how this thing should work..." He'd already done all the research he could stomach, but reminding her that there could be serious medical ramifications seemed important. "It'll either be a night to treasure, or a horrible interspecies-awkwardness thing. In which case, fighting the Collectors will be a welcome distraction. So, you know, a win either way."

"You know, Garrus, if you're not comfortable with this, it's okay. I'm not trying to pressure you."

"Shepard, you're about the only friend I've got left in this screwed-up galaxy. I'm not going to pretend I've got a fetish for humans... but this isn't about that. You don't ever have to worry about making me uncomfortable. Nervous, yes... but never uncomfortable. But it's been bugging me, I totally kicked your ass, Shepard. We can't _really_ call it a tie-breaker, now can we?"

"Uh-huh," she said, unconvinced. "We'll see. So I was thinking that sometime _late_ might be good. After most of the crew has racked in for the night, you know?"

"That sounds wise. Disrupt the crew as little as possible... You know me. I always like to savor the last shot before popping the heat sink." Shepard's smirk widened and her eyebrows lifted. He replayed his last statement through his head and realized why she was grinning like that. "Wait. That metaphor just went somewhere horrible."

Shepard winked and backed toward the doors, "I'll let you get back to work."

He hit the button to unlock the doors for her, "Right. Because I'm in a great place to optimize firing algorithms right now."

* * *

"Have you got a minute?" Shepard's voice startled Garrus out of his thoughts, but he thought he probably hid it well. He locked the doors behind her and activated the surveillance scrambler he'd just installed before turning to her and speaking.

"Definitely," he replied. "Part of me still thinks we're crazy for even considering... blowing off steam. Sparring is one thing, but..."

"Is this when you tell me you've decided against trying it? Because I'm trying not to push, but it's been almost a week..."

"Of course not. I want to try it with you. I want a few moments that are just for us before we throw ourselves into hell for the good of the galaxy."

"That's just what I was hoping you'd say," she said, her lips curled into a crooked smile.

"Glad to hear it. So, I have to ask, did Mordin ambush you with a safe sex talk, too? Did you _tell_ him anything?"

"God, I though you must have! And yes, he did ambush me. With about a terabyte of what looks to me like porn and a bunch of medical brochures. Who comes up with that crap anyway?"

"No idea. Salarian scientists, probably, as disturbing as that thought is. He gave me some adrenaline shots to hold onto in case of 'an emergency,' as he delicately put it. You?"

"Yeah, me too. Bet the advice he gave me was ten times more awkward than what he told you."

"Wouldn't it be the _same_ advice?"

Shepard quirked an eyebrow, "Doubt it. Do turians do oral sex?"

"Do what? I mean... Uh, no. I can't even imagine... Do _humans_?"

"Humans like to do pretty much anything you can imagine with their naughty bits, so yeah. Mordin warned me to make sure I don't _ingest _anything."

"Ugh, that's just plain disgusting. Degenerates," Garrus said with a shake of his head. "No wonder humans and krogan are so barbaric. It's amazing you think about anything aside from sex with it so heavily connected to all your biological imperatives and having your bodies reward that with pleasure."

"What? Why?" Shepard's open confusion was almost comical, but he did his best not to laugh.

"I don't know of any other sapient species that have sexual pleasure and reproduction so intrinsically linked. Asari can reproduce with nothing more than a touch, for example."

"An incredibly intimate and pleasurable touch, from what I understand. If it's done right, at least."

"Yeah, but it's not really the same as what you consider sex, is it?"

"You're telling me that humans and krogan are the only ones who get pleasure out of reproduction? That doesn't even make sense, and I'll tell you right now, humans can _definitely_ reproduce without experiencing much pleasure at all. At least from the female's side of it."

"Not the same," Garrus repeated with a shrug. "I won't even get into salarians, but turians, drell, and even batarians all have the ability to engage in anything we consider sexual without risking unintended reproduction."

"Vorcha?"

Garrus looked at her askance, "I know nothing about vorcha, and I'm very comfortable with that knowledge gap, but whatever group they fall into, I think that only emphasizes my point."

Shepard cringed, clearly thinking about the topic more than she should. "Forget I mentioned it. So reproduction isn't sexual to you?" she said with a smirk. "You turians reproduce asexually?"

"Now you're making fun of the idea, Shepard. Come on, I thought you knew everything there is to know about your 'alien' crewmen."

"Well, apparently I was wrong about that. I'm suddenly a lot more apprehensive about this _tie-breaker_ than I was when I came down here."

"Oh, don't worry," he said, daring to reach out and pull her closer. She smiled, so he kept his hands on her and craned his neck to keep eye contact. "I've done my homework and I'm confident you won't be disappointed. We're a lot more... compatible than I thought at first," he touched her hair, surprised at how light and silky it felt between his talons. Hair was _fascinating_, and only a little disturbing now that he knew it wasn't slimy or greasy like he'd always assumed it would be. "Think you'll be available tonight?"

Shepard smiled up at him, "I don't know, I _have_ been waiting all week. I guess it depends on how willing you are to try some _degenerate_ sex acts."

"Maybe we can work up to that," he replied, hoping she was joking.

"I'll see you tonight, then. But if you stand me up..."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Shepard," he interrupted as she slipped away from him and moved to leave the battery. She shot him a crooked smile over her shoulder, but didn't say anything else. Garrus watched her walk away, focusing on the sway of her hips and the curve of her waist._ Not too bad, actually. This might work out after all._

* * *

_**Author's note: Thanks to everyone for reading, following, and adding to your favorites. :) I also wanted to make a note on some of the liberties I've taken regarding alien reproduction. Stop reading this note if you don't care. :)**_

_I've done some research and some brainstorming with my beta regarding the subject, and the reproductive adaptations I've decided to assign to the galactic community are at least loosely derived or extrapolated from real animals. I'm thinking I'll explore those devices a little more in the story at some point, at least in passing, but here's the summary:_

_We all know how asari and salarians reproduce (arguably parthenogenically and spawning respectively.) In this story, turian females can 'freeze' pregnancy to prevent it from progressing until social/environmental conditions are prime and can spontaneously abort at will (like rabbits and many other animals.) Drell are only fertile when certain non-sexual courtship conditions are met (I didn't look for an example in nature, but if it isn't there, it really should be. Not much of a stretch in my book.) And batarian females have a decoy vaginal passage (female mallard ducks, for example) which is not connected to the reproductive system. Quarians, all locked up in their separate suits, have their own sexual culture, I'm sure, and there's no such thing as casual sex or one-night stands unless an individual is really self-destructive. Volus are similarly closed off. Hanar, Elcor... who else am I forgetting? Do I really need to talk about the non-humanoids? I don't think so.  
_

_Anyway, none of the mentioned actually have recreational sex and reproduction linked in the way that humans (and apparently krogan, and possibly vorcha) do. Garrus isn't an expert. Maybe he's wrong, or maybe his perspective skews things. Turians are a lot more like humans and krogan than most of the other species in this regard, but I doubt they see it that way since they have so much personal control over whether they reproduce or not, and it's not just a matter of whether they are sexually active or not, or successful birth control, like it is for humans._

_PM me if you're interested and I can show you some information to support my reasoning, and I can share my personal logic about all this and why it even matters enough to include in a story like this. _

_**Until next week!**_

_**-laughingtiger**_


	11. Restraint

Garrus glanced up from his data-pad. Shepard was having another nightmare. He watched for a few moments, but just as he was about to get up to wake her, she calmed down. _There's a first. I don't think I've seen her just ride one of those out._ He watched and listened to her breathing until he was certain the nightmare was over. It bothered him a little that she wouldn't tell him what the dreams were about, but he could tell she wanted to, so he let it go.

He turned his eyes back to the data-pad in his hand, but his mind was still on Shepard, so he set it aside and reached over to the cabin controls on the coffee table to lower the temperature in the room. Shepard was sleeping under a pile of blankets, anyway, and she always told him to make himself at home, so instead of stopping after a few degrees, he lowered it all the way to a comfortably cool temperature– too cold for a human unless she was dressed for it.

On a whim, he decided to retract the shutters, too. The loft had an amazing view and he couldn't understand why Shepard kept the window covered. He leaned back on the leather couch and watched the stars and the waves of light washing over the ship.

He was tired, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep even with the temperature rapidly improving. Shepard liked him to stay while she slept, but he couldn't stand lying in her bed for long. The arrangement had really cut into his sleep, but it seemed to improve hers, so for the moment, he was content to indulge her. And if he was completely honest, she was really growing on him.

Their first night together had nearly been disastrous. Shepard had _insisted_ on giving him what she called a blow job, despite his protests. She didn't blow on anything, but it was _amazing_, and he hadn't even noticed that she was in distress until she'd already taken care of the problem herself. Thankfully, the adrenaline worked like a charm, and for some reason Shepard thought the whole experience was hilarious. And it hadn't deterred her at all from repeat attempts– most of which didn't require emergency medical intervention, luckily.

Garrus felt the first stirrings of his plates beginning to shift and he toyed with the idea of waking Shepard. She _really_ needed her sleep, though. It didn't seem like it would be fair to wake her just to sate his lust. He never thought he'd find himself thinking like this about another species, let alone a human. Maybe it was just association of experiences, not true attraction. Part of him was still pretty disgusted by the idea of carrying on a physical relationship with an alien. _But that's all it is– physical. Our relationship is still basically the same. It feels like friendship and casual sex, not... bonding._ He couldn't decide if that made it worse or better, and he wanted to know how Shepard felt about the situation. He wondered if how _she _felt would change how _he_ felt. He suspected it might, so he had avoided the subject so far, content to let things settle and stabilize a bit more first.

Shepard's dreams started bothering her, pulling him from his musings. She whimpered and thrashed, waking herself with a start. Her sweat-slicked face glistened in the dim light, her eyes fixed on the uncovered window. Without looking away from the stars and billows of light from the FTL drive, she used her omnitool to close the shutters. She didn't look away even after the view of open space was blocked by the ship's kinetic shielding. The expression on her face seemed a lot like fear, and Garrus couldn't remember _ever_ seeing her afraid. The thought unnerved him.

Garrus cleared his throat, "Bad dreams again?"

Finally, she looked at him. Her eyes seemed sunken– a sign of too little sleep in humans– but they shone almost feverishly. "No. Yes, but... did you open that?" she asked, her voice rough from sleep.

"Yeah. Great view. I take it you don't like it, though."

She looked away. "Mmm. The light bothers me. Can't sleep with that open."

_She's lying to me. Why? _Garrus carefully controlled his mandibles to prevent them from communicating his sudden suspicion to Shepard. It wouldn't have fooled a turian, but maybe she wouldn't notice since it was dark and she was so distracted. "Sorry about that. I wasn't really focusing on this," he said, waving the data pad, "so I thought I'd take advantage of the view. It's hard to believe that little bit of light could wake you up when your nightmares didn't. Are you sure that was the problem?"

Shepard ran a hand through her hair, guiding it from chaos into even more chaos and Garrus smiled. He liked her hair when it stuck up like little horns or some strange crest. It seemed an impossible configuration for _hair_ when he thought about what it actually was."Why won't you ever stay in bed with me, Garrus?" she asked, clearly not willing to come clean about the lie she'd just told him.

"It's not that I don't want to, Shepard..."

"And what do I have to do to get you to call me by my first name when we're alone?" she interrupted, a hint of irritation sharpening her tone.

"Sorry, Jane, it's just a habit. And to answer the question, your bed isn't built for turians. It's pretty uncomfortable."

"Why didn't you say something? Can we fix it?"

"Maybe. It's, uh, too soft."

"Are you kidding me? It's barely softer than the floor."

"Which is _also_ soft," he pointed out, pressing a foot against the carpet. When she scowled, he hastily continued, "Don't worry about it tonight, Jane. You look exhausted– try and get some sleep."

"I think that's all I'm getting," she said, reaching for a sweatshirt and the loose pants she always put on, then took off before going to bed. Her movements as she dressed seemed aggressive. "It feels like a refrigerator in here, Garrus."

"You said I should make myself at home."

"This is comfortable for you? How can you stand shipping with humans? It's got to feel like hell."

"It's usually a little on the warm side, but turians are a lot more temperature tolerant than most other species. If it gets too warm, I start feeling pretty sluggish. But my armor's got a cooling system, so it usually doesn't matter at all."

"Right, hemocyanin is more effective at lower temperatures than hemoglobin. Fucking dextro blood. So why is your blood sweet? That much sugar in your veins can't be healthy for you."

"It's not carbohydrates, it's amminos. Perfectly healthy," he explained. Shepard pulled a face he didn't know how to interperet, but it made him want to laugh. Given her mood, he made sure he didn't.

"Like crab meat. Gross. I hate seafood. Remind me not to bite you anymore."

"Happily. Somehow I doubt you'll listen even if I do, though. Seems to be your favorite move when you're losing. Maybe I should do both of us a favor and start letting you win."

"Are you kidding me? You tapped out the last three times we sparred."

"And the only reason I did is because you're so bloody-minded that you _won't_ tap out even when your bones are cracking. How's that arm, by the way?"

She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes before answering tersely, "It's fine. Cleared for duty yesterday, not that it slowed me down even while it was healing."

"Good thing you're a Cerberus freak of nature and heal so damned fast, Jane."

"Right. Now, how the hell did you get that out of Karin?"

"She didn't tell me, I could hear it going while we were sparring. That's why I let you go. In case you were wondering, your counter wasn't good enough to break my grip."

"Oh, so you've been going easy on me?" Shepard spat, her anger and irritation building.

Garrus leaned back and laced his talons behind his head. Humans recognized it as a dominant posture, at least subconsciously. Her mood was rubbing off on him and he liked the idea of provoking her to spar with him before going on duty– and if they were going to spar, she was much easier to handle when she was mad than when she was clear-headed. "Well, I could say something about balancing out your performance in the bedroom, but I'm pretty sure you'll want to hit me if I do."

"Guess what, Vakarian– I already want to."

"Well, that sounds like a date, _Shepard_."

"Coffee first. And maybe breakfast."

"As if you ever eat _food_. Alright, put some real clothes on and I'll see you in the mess."

"I don't have to because this isn't a military vessel and I'm not on duty for hours. I think I'd enjoy fighting you wearing this."

"Soft," he said, knowing that even though it wasn't exactly a coherent reply, it would further irritate her, _and_ it would get her to change. He really didn't want to fight her in something so flimsy– for multiple reasons.

"Damn it," the human growled, tugging the sweatshirt over her head before crumpling it into a ball and throwing it at the foot of the bed.

Garrus watched her for a moment as she rummaged for a clean casual uniform. She was definitely improving his level of appreciation for the human form. He was looking forward to sparring, and Shepard was pointedly ignoring him, so he rose and silently left her to get ready.

* * *

"Maybe you should make that a double, Shepard," Garrus suggested as the human set aside her empty coffee mug. "Get enough stimulants in your system and maybe you can beat me."

"Stow it, Garrus," she snapped. "I can beat you with my mind– you're forgetting that I'm a biotic."

"Yeah, but there are drugs for that," he said dismissively.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Shepard asked, her tone suddenly low and dangerous.

"That you can't rely on having biotics at your disposal. If you can't beat me without them and I ever decide I need to make sure I can take you out, it'd be easy enough to give you a push of suppressants before the fight began, _if_ I even let it come to that. My hand-to-hand's good, but I'm even better with a rifle and a scope."

"That'd be easy, would it? What the fuck makes you think I'd let _anyone_ give me suppressants again?"

"Again, huh? And when was that? I thought you were properly trained when you were pretty young. Don't humans usually only suppress criminals and the mentally unstable?"

"Drop it, Vakarian."

"No, I'm feeling the need to know. Which were you? I realized the other day that I really don't know much about your past, Shepard. Seems a bit strange, given how _close_ we've become."

"None. Of your. Business."

"Wow," he said, raising his hands defensively and taking a step backward. "Guess I'm more invested than I should be if you won't even answer harmless questions. I thought we were pretty good friends, but I guess you're just using me for my body after all..."

"Are you trying to guilt trip me?" she scoffed. "Do you remember who the fuck you're talking to, Vakarian? Get your ass down to the cargo bay or I'm going to start hitting you right here."

"Yes, Ma'am. But if you don't tap out when you're _getting hurt_, this is the last time I'm fighting you. There's a difference between being tough and being irresponsible, _Commander_."

Jack dropped her spork into the mass of orange 'food' on her tray and turned to face the bickering pair. Shepard was genuinely pissed with the turian she'd been fucking for the past few weeks. And if she was that mad at _him_, Jack didn't trust that it wouldn't splash over onto anyone else in the room. The fight continued, and Jack tuned out the argument, stilling the thoughts and quieting her mind. She watched their body language and began picking absently at the semblance of bread on her tray. The turian was pissed too, and they were getting ready for a fight, but they were both focused on the obvious target, not looking for bystanders to involve.

Jack relaxed and picked up the spork. She went to such lengths to avoid the Cerberus crew, and she still couldn't eat in peace. The tenancy of everyone on the crew to follow the irrelevant designations of night and day worked to her advantage, but it made her lip curl to think of how predictable and _caged_ the people on the ship were. _Slaves to the clock, like that shit means anything,_ she thought derisively. To someone raised in a cell, time was a very different beast. She was about to get up and return to her corner of the cargo hold when Shepard glared at her and stormed off toward the med bay.

"Get down there, Garrus," the Commander snarled.

"Going to go warn the doctor to get a bed in sickbay ready for you?" he jibed. "Probably a good idea. I'm not carrying you up here, either, unless you beg, and I don't think you'll be in any shape to do that, so you should have her get a gurney onto the elevator so you don't have to wait when I'm done with you."

"Now," Shepard grated out, stalking away.

Jack smiled, wondering how the turian had managed to provoke her to such a degree of rage. "God, just rip her clothes off and get it over with, Bugface. Either she wants it bad or she wants to kill something. Maybe both, knowing her."

Garrus took a deep breath and some of his aggression dissipated before he addressed her. Good. "Definitely both, knowing her," he agreed under his breath.

"If _I_ was that pissed at you, you'd be dead." _No shit. Why isn't he? Shepard isn't sentimental, and she isn't weak. What the fuck makes you tick, Commander Shepard? He can't be _that_ good in the sack,_ Jack mused as the realization hit her.

"Like I've been telling her, that's not so easy."

"What'd you do?"

"You saw most of it. She's just a bitch when she wakes up too early. Hasn't had enough coffee, either, I guess."

"No, dude, she's _pissed._ You should back the fuck off before she really does kill you. She and I have a few things in common, you know, even if she doesn't see it that way."

"She'll get over it. She just needs to blow off some steam," the turian rumbled. Jack could have sworn he was saying something dirty, judging by the tones and the smile on his face, but other than 'blow' there wasn't much to work with. She dismissed it as cross-species interference. "We'll spar and she'll feel better," Garrus continued, sounding certain of his assessment.

"Oh, mm-hmm," Jack agreed in a too-light tone. "Well, have fun."

"What, Jack?" Garrus demanded when she continued staring at him.

"Your funeral. I think she means it, this time. No one gets that mad just from caffeine withdrawals. You hit a nerve somewhere. Maybe something about blocking her biotics, if I had to guess. When someone resorts to chemical restraints, it's because they're planning to fuck you over or kill you."

"She's... it's fine. She'll be back to normal in an hour," the turian said with much less confidence than his previous statements to the same effect.

"Doubt it. That look on her face means she's not all the way _here_, you know? You reminded her of something you shouldn't have."

"She didn't say anything. I think I know her better than you, Jack."

"Whatever. I'm right, Bugface. Women don't turn out like her without filling a few closets with skeletons, and you just made 'em dance."

"We talking about you, or her? She's not like you, Jack, other than being female and a biotic. Hell, by that reckoning you're just like Miranda, too."

"Eat me. But I take back what I said earlier. Don't try to fuck her before she starts smiling again."

"Thanks for the advice," Garrus said, clearly not pleased and not very grateful for Jack's assessment.

"Well, fuck you too. If you're going to screw in the cargo hold, keep your fucked up sex noises to yourselves. That's not something I need to hear again."

The turian straightened in surprise, "Uh, sorry. I can't really promise anything, though."

"Well, shit."

* * *

Garrus paced the sparring ring, mentally turning over his conversation with Jack, and the rest of the morning with Shepard. He couldn't decide how much credence to give the tattooed biotic, but the fact that he didn't feel comfortable simply dismissing everything she said was telling. His instincts were good, and it almost always turned out horribly when he ignored them. _Damn. And I've been provoking her since she got out of bed. What set her off? Bad mood aside, it_ does_ seem like there's something else going on with her. And what the hell is taking her so long?_ He growled in frustration and turned sharply, intending to go find her and call off the morning's match, but when he did, she was there, watching him pace. "Shepard. I was beginning to think you were having second thoughts."_ Dammit, why am I still pushing?_ He opened his mouth to recant, but he didn't get a word out.

"Not a chance. Dr. Chakwas didn't like my request so I had to find Mordin. He was singing, if you can believe it."

"Must have been important. Look, Shepard..."

"Shut it," she interrupted. She held up a pressure injector filled with something purple. "Your mouth's gotten you into trouble, Vakarian. This is a neural disruptor."

"Biotic suppressant?"

"Exactly. I won't reave, but if you want to stop me from using anything else at my disposal, you're going to have to inject me with this."

"No. We're done."

"You've been talking shit all morning. Back it up, Garrus."

"You're insane, Shepard. This isn't going to help. We both know who'd walk away if it was life and death."

"I'm going to start fighting you in ten seconds. Take the goddamned injector."

"Shepard," Garrus said warningly.

"Nine... eight... seven..."

"Jane, stop counting."

"Six..."

"Neither of us want this."

"Five..."

"You owe me a good, long conversation and an explanation or two for this, Jane," he growled.

"Four..." Shepard still held out the injector, but she began to ready herself for the fight. Garrus waited until she rolled her neck like she always did before they sparred and snatched the injector and her arm in one smooth movement. Shepard tried to jerk away, but he turned the device on her and activated it, struggling to keep it flush against her chest until its payload was delivered as she took an awkward swing at his face with her free arm. She hit the sweet spot on his mandible, knocking his head to the side and making his vision black out for a heartbeat. He quelled his rage and focused on keeping the injector steady.

"No!" Shepard yelled, too close to his face. "Fuck! Let me go," She demanded, kicking and struggling frantically.

Garrus obliged and fell into a defensive stance. "You left me no choice, Jane," he said, awaiting her attack.

"Fuck you! That was a dirty trick, you bastard," she accused, also assuming a defensive posture. She blinked and shook her head, clearly trying to focus. The suppressant was apparently a lot stronger than she anticipated and it seemed she was having trouble handling the effects. Garrus didn't know from experience, but biotic suppressants were mentally destabilizing while in effect, which made sense because nothing could really suppress biotic potential, the drugs had to simply disrupt mental function enough and in such a way as to limit biotic ability.

"You're one to talk, Shepard. You use every dirty trick you think you can get away with. Besides, this one was for your own good. You'd feel bad if you injured me, and I'm pretty sure I can't take your biotic charge without breaking bones."

"No shit, that's the _point,_" she insisted, her words beginning to slur slightly.

"How much of that did I just give you?"

Shepard's eyes locked with his and when she spoke, he could tell she was making an effort to speak crisply. If he hadn't known better, it would have probably fooled him. "Too much, according to Mordin," she said casually. "Miranda's notes in my medical file suggested tripling the dose, but I had to bully Solus to do it."

"Of course you did. Your sense of fair play is astounding. Go back to your loft and sleep it off, Jane. You look like you're high as a kite."

"How the hell do you know all those stupid human idioms, Garrus? Maybe you have a fetish after all."

"Know your enemy," he replied sarcastically as he dropped his stance and reached out for her arm, intending to take her back to her quarters. This wasn't the best outcome, but it could have been worse.

She evaded his grab and her lip curled, "Stand and fight, Vakarian. I'm not going to suffer through this shit for nothing."

"Shepard, you're good, but I'm better– and that's when you're not mentally impaired."

"If I can't handle you like this, I deserve the beating."

"No shit, she does," Jack interjected as she entered the hold, drawing glares from both would-be combatants. "There's no reason that drug should be fucking you up, Shepard. Triple dose? So what. Keep your shit together and focus. It can't take your power away, it can only confuse you so you can't find it."

Shepard closed her eyes a moment and a nimbus of dark energy began sparking around her. Garrus backed away and took a step to the side. He did _not_ want to be the recipient of an attempted biotic charge.

"Woo!" Jack cheered, pumping her fist in the air. "That's it, Bitch, fuck him up. He _drugged_ you. How does that make you feel? What did you want to do the last time someone did that to you?"

"Jane, it's me," Garrus reminded, growing more concerned about the situation. "Jack, shut up. Who invited you down here anyway?" He needn't have worried, though. The sparks fizzled and Shepard cried out and fell to one knee as her body was forced to absorb the backlash of her failed attempt to control the mass effect field. Garrus rushed to her side, but Shepard slapped his hands away when he tried to help her.

"That looked painful. Nice try, Commander," Jack casually called over her shoulder, choosing to beat a strategic retreat.

"Get _off_ me!" Shepard snapped when Garrus tried to help her get back up. "Just get out of here, Garrus. Leave me alone."

"Get a hold of yourself, Jane. Let me help you back to the loft and I'll stay away until you tell me otherwise."

"I don't need help," she insisted, struggling to her feet. She swayed, but caught her balance quickly and stormed out of the hold. Garrus sighed, letting her go without any further interference.

_What a disaster. At least Jack's encouragement didn't work and she didn't insist on fighting like that. Mordin's going to explain himself and if he doesn't have bruises from her 'bullying' he might when I'm done with him. _He checked the time. _But the salarian can wait. _"EDI, let me know if she passes out or looks like she needs medical assistance, please."

"Medical emergencies will be reported to the doctor on duty, Officer Vakarian."

"Fine. Good enough," he grumbled. He waited until the elevator returned, then went to get some much-needed and long-overdue sleep.

* * *

_Author's note: As always, thanks to everyone who's reading and enjoying this story. I'm curious about what you, dear readers, are here for. If you have a minute, leave a comment and let me know. It might influence the rest of the story. ;) Anyway, it'd be good to know.  
I had plans to make sure about four out of five chapters were more heavily focused on/from the perspective of the support cast, but it's not so easy. My short and sweet chapters have turned into 5-10 page monsters. I'm afraid the chapters are probably never going to be that short again, but I think soon we'll stop following Garrus and Shepard around so much. This story started out rated T, but pretty quickly got bumped to M, so now I'm wondering how far into 'M' this should really go. Thoughts?__ Next chapter coming soon!_


	12. Come-down

_**Author's Note: So glad you're reading! Explicit sexual content in this chapter.**_

* * *

"What the _hell_ were you thinking, Solus?" Miranda demanded as she stormed into the tech lab.

Mordin set aside the datapad in his hand and narrowed his eyes. Humans were unpredictable, particularly when agitated. "Specificity, Operative Lawson."

"You _drugged_ Commander Shepard! She's down on that planet we've been scanning for the past six hours, _alone_, and her biotics are offline. Chakwas said she wasn't responsible, so _explain_ yourself."

"Not _personally_ responsible for administering medication. Commander made request. Claimed was needed for experiment. Didn't believe her, Vakarian and Shepard engaged in power struggles. Suppressants obviously escalation of situation."

"And yet you gave it to her."

"Shepard threatened violence. Saw no point in withholding _harmless_ dosage of benign substance. Didn't want to shoot her. Never want to."

"The inventory says it was three times the maximum recommended dose."

"As per Cerberus medical notations on Shepard's metabolism and unique physiology. _Your_ notes, I believe. Commander insisted."

"Don't drug her again, Mordin. And if she doesn't come back from this insane salvage mission, you're going to answer for it personally."

"Threats unnecessary. Commander more than capable of simple salvage and investigation of shipwreck."

"That ship is rusting to pieces and it's about to fall into a chasm. Naturally, she won't evacuate."

"Ah," Mordin said, inhaling deeply through his nostrils. "Problematic."

"To put it mildly. She's a typical aries. You said Garrus might know what's going on with her?"

"Aries?" the salarian repeated quizically, tilting his head.

"Her astrological sign," Miranda impatiently clarified. "Never mind that, where's the turian?"

Mordin nodded sharply, "Astrology. Quaint human superstition. Ancient. Derivative of flawed mathematics. Frequently used by social outcasts to screen potential mates, justify failed relationships." His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the human. "Surprised _you_ find it comforting, Operative."

"I _don't_, it's just... Shepard happens to be the perfect example of that particular stereotype. EDI, where is Garrus Vakarian?"

The spherical hologram avatar of the ship's AI appeared above a nearby console, "In the main battery. I believe he is sleeping."

"Wake him up and have him report to the conference room immediately," Miranda ordered. EDI's avatar flashed green once to acknowledge the instructions, then vanished.

"If you'd like to keep an eye on the Commander while you pray she doesn't end up at the bottom of that chasm, you're welcome to join us, Mordin. EDI's displaying a live feed in there, along with all the data from Shepard's hardsuit."

"Geosynchronous orbit?" he questioned as he accessed something on his omnitool. "Yes, will accompany you. Experiments cooking for next hour, anyway. What astrological sign identifies _you_, Miranda?"

"We're _not_ compatible, Mordin," she sighed.

"Hm, personnel file lists date of birth. Older than appearance suggests," he said, studying the information on his omnitool. A smile spread over his face and he dismissed the display. "Virgo. Fitting."

"You're not supposed to have access to _my_ file, Solus."

"Ah. Assumed lack of security clearance an oversight. Apologies." He tapped his lower lip, deep in thought. "Perhaps judgment of astrology's accuracy hasty." Miranda rolled her eyes and did her best to appear disinterested as the salarian prattled about how to _correct _astrology to reflect a more accurate mathematical base.

* * *

The top-down camera angle made it difficult to understand exactly what was going on, but what was alarmingly clear was that the wreck was swaying more than ever, and Shepard wasn't going anywhere.

"What's she doing? The computer's straight ahead," Jack pointed out, her eyes glued to the display.

"Another loose floor panel?" Garrus suggested, wondering exactly the same thing. Shepard's heart rate was increasing slowly, and her hardsuit registered other signs of stress, but she _looked_ perfectly calm.

"Maybe the flooring rusted out and she twisted her ankle. I always knew deep down she's a damsel in distress," Jack cracked, but the joke fell flat in the face of the collective concern of the observers.

"Joker," Miranda said, hitting the comm button to the cockpit.

"Miranda," the pilot's voice countered through the speakers.

"Is the shuttle ready for pickup? Can they get close enough to grab her?"

"Uh, not without sending the Estevanico to the bottom of the gorge. If the Commander isn't ready, which it looks like she isn't, they can't risk getting any closer."

"Damn," she cursed, switching the comms to connect to Shepard. "Commander, your position is unstable. Shuttle is standing by for evac."

"Hold the shuttle. This wreck's about to go and I don't have what I came for, yet." Shepard's voice crackled over the speakers. It was the first she'd spoken since leaving the Normandy.

Garrus leaned across Miranda, "What the hell are you doing, Shepard?"

"All non-mission critical personnel off the comms," Shepard snapped.

"This is a tantrum, not a mission, Jane," he growled, knowing immediately he shouldn't have said it.

"Cut the chatter, Vakarian. Shepard out," she said coldly before closing the connection.

"Nice one, Bugface," Jack muttered.

"What is she _waiting_ for?" Miranda hissed, slapping the table in frustration.

"Waiting... Hm. Perhaps waiting for biotic suppressants to wear off," Mordin suggested, tapping his fingers on the table.

"Why would she need her biotics? There's nothing down there except the rusting corpse of a ship and the flight-log she won't leave without," Miranda irritably pointed out.

"Look," the salarian said, jabbing a finger at the hardsuit's sensor output. "Neural activity suggests attempt to generate mass effect field. Most likely biotic-assisted charge. Curious. Without impact, charge could result in..." the salarian trailed off when a red warning tag began flashing.

"Hardsuit breach?" Miranda announced in dismay and disbelief. "How did she manage that? No one's even shooting at her!"

"Shepard always finds a way," Garrus muttered. "Get the second shuttle fired up, I'm going down there," he said, stalking from the room.

"Count me in," Jack said, hurrying to follow him.

"Shepard attempting to charge," Mordin stated, his eyes glued to the neural activity graph. "Suggest alerting shuttle. Charge will destabilize remaining structure or..."

"Or she'll overshoot and go right over the edge," Miranda interrupted. "Oh, god, there she goes," she said, more than a hint of panic in her voice.

"Impact with main computer terminal. Timing perfect. Charge momentum countered by sway of ship. Oh, no, structure weakening. Failure imminent. Fifteen seconds... Fourteen..." Mordin queued a timer to take over his countdown.

"Shuttle one, get in there, the Estevanico's going down," Miranda shouted over the comms.

The comms crackled and a screech of protesting metal squealed over the speakers. "Shepard requesting immediate evac."

"Shuttle en route, Commander," Joker acknowledged, relieving Miranda of the responsibility. She watched Shepard build up another biotic charge as the shuttle came within range and the Commander used her momentum to fling herself through the open doors as the Estevanico tipped past the point of recovery and began its final plunge to the bottom of the chasm.

Miranda slapped the control to dismiss the display and leaned on the table, trying to calm herself. "EDI, recall shuttle two, if they've even left. Inform concerned parties that Commander Shepard is on her way back."

"Amazing. Triple dose of biotic suppressants processed in hours. Suggest update of medical notation, Miranda. Collecting data for upload," he said as he activated his omnitool and began retrieving a copy of the sensor output for the mission. "Would love to study Lazarus program in greater detail. Shepard a fascinating subject. Consistently exceeds expectations. Impressive."

"I'll consider it," the human tartly promised as she turned on her heel to return to her office.

* * *

Garrus paced furiously, waiting for the decontamination program to finish. "Hey, Bugface," Jack called, "remember what I said earlier. Not until she smiles at you, or you'll regret it."

"I heard you the first time, Jack. Now get out of here. Go bother Zaeed or your big brother."

"Grunt's sleeping, and Grandpa's pissed at me because I broke his stupid _broken_ rifle. What kind of sense does that make?"

"It had sentimental value. You wouldn't understand. Bring him a bottle of liquor from the lounge and he'll get over it. Now _go._"

"Don't die, Bugface. Remember that she's bigger and badder than you."

"The hell she is," Garrus muttered when Jack was out of earshot. The human was probably right, but at the moment, Garrus didn't care. He knew he'd been out of line when he yelled at her over the communicator, but he wouldn't take it back even if he could.

The quarantine doors swished open and Shepard and the Cerberus crewmen that had manned the shuttle stepped out. The Cerberus shuttle crew hurried out of the hangar, pointedly trying not to make eye contact. Shepard locked eyes with him immediately. "Don't ever speak to me like that on an open channel again, Vakarian."

"You needed to hear it, Shepard."

"Did everyone else?" she demanded, obviously livid.

"Swallow your pride and admit I was right," he growled.

"Fuck you. You undermined my decision and my abilities, and you made a spectacle of our relationship."

"What relationship? You lie to me like it's nothing, you shut me out, and you treat me like a subordinate."

"Get out of my face," she snapped, pushing past him. He followed hard on her heels, though it was obvious she was trying to get away from him. "I've had enough of your bullshit today, Garrus."

"_My_ bullshit?" he said, incredulous. "You're the one who's been picking fights and pushing the envelope since the moment you got out of bed this morning."

"Maybe I'd be in a better mood if I wasn't waking up alone."

"Maybe if you weren't afraid of the dark, it wouldn't matter so much."

She whirled to face him, "What?"

"You're living on stimulants half the time, Shepard. You have nightmares almost every night. Obviously something's wrong."

"Everything's wrong, Garrus. I'm working with Cerberus, the Alliance– even Anderson– thinks I've gone rogue. The council wants plausible deniability concerning all my activities, and the Collectors are targeting human colonies. Not only that, but if the rumors are to be believed they're after _me_ personally and the bounty is insane. And to top it all off, _I'm dead_."

"You're not dead," he said in a hushed voice.

"I'm coming apart at the seams," she said gesturing toward her face. "My fucking eyes glow _red_, Garrus."

"The better to terrify your enemies, my dear. It's not a big deal, Shepard," he said, finally realizing that she was still fighting the effects of the biotic suppressants. Her eyes were dilated, showing even more of the eerie red light she was so distressed about.

"Fairy tales, now, Garrus? Really?" Shepard incredulously asked as she brushed past him. "And I hope you realize that with that quote you've cast me as the villain." He took a deep breath to calm himself and realized he could smell her blood. His eyes flicked over her and he found that she was limping. Before he could ask her about it, Miranda and half a dozen Cerberus crewmen entered the room. "We're finishing this later, Garrus," Shepard promised grimly.

The Cerberus crew attended their routine tasks, securing the shuttle and beginning diagnostics. Miranda stopped in front of the exit and planted a hand on her hip. "Shepard, I hope that was worth it."

"I'm sure someone will think so. That was a piece of history, Miranda."

"I didn't know you were such a glory hound. Is having your name in a history book important enough to risk your life and the mission?"

"No, but my reputation with the Alliance is. This was a standing N7 assignment. When we picked up the wreckage, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to send the brass a message," Shepard explained as she began removing her hardsuit. Garrus snorted and pushed past Miranda, storming away from the shuttle bay.

"I doubt this is going to help your case much, there's absolutely no tactical value," Miranda commented, turning her attention back to Shepard.

"It'll tell them I remember who I am."

"Perhaps next time you can trouble yourself to log a mission plan and bring backup."

"It was an Alliance interest and I'm the only N7 designation on board."

"There are procedures that even_ you_ have to follow, Shepard," Miranda reminded archly.

"If you don't like it, tell your boss to replace me. Until then, my ship, my rules," Shepard said, starting forward. "Get out of my way."

Miranda stepped aside and followed Shepard as she left the cargo bay, "Tell me about that hardsuit breach. Your leg looks..."

"Hurts like a bitch. And I have no idea how it happened. I was walking, then next thing I know, my leg won't move. I didn't have time to cut myself free..."

"So you used brute force and wrecked your hardsuit– and your leg it appears. You'll need to have that looked at before you return to duty," she stated, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button for deck two. "How did you work around the suppressants in your system?"

"I got mad. Somehow, that worked."

"I'm going to need blood samples and you'll need to let Dr. Chakwas run a full series of tests."

"Give me another order and see what happens, Miranda."

The Cerberus operative took a deep breath and tried again, "I... would appreciate your cooperation, Commander. Your health is important. Humanity needs you."

"What, you don't think you could do my job?" Shepard asked, feigning surprise.

"I can do your job, but I'm not _you._"

"And for some reason that was worth several fortunes to your boss. Hard to get past that, isn't it?" Shepard said, self-satisfied smile curving her lips.

"Not at all. He doesn't value you as a person, but as the best tool for a job. You're a symbol as much as anything. You don't think your people follow you because they like your personality, do you?"

"If I had _your_ personality, would they still follow me, Miranda?" Shepard countered, a sanguine smile fixed to her face. Miranda frowned and shifted uncomfortably. "Exactly. Whether you like it or not, the personality is part of the magic. The boss made the right call when he didn't let you change anything."

"That remains to be seen. I look forward to reading your mission report, Shepard."

"Then you'll be disappointed, Miranda. I already said it's Alliance business," Shepard said in too-cheerful tones. Miranda frowned and turned toward her office, leaving Shepard to hobble the rest of the way to sickbay on her own.

* * *

Garrus watched the fish, trying to clear his mind and calm down. He was furious with Shepard– she had behaved like a child, then had the audacity to try and dress him down when he pointed it out. The fish weren't helping and he was beginning to have second thoughts about confronting Shepard in such a volatile mood, especially since he knew hers matched his own. Just as he turned to leave her cabin, he heard the elevator doors slide open. He steeled himself and pretended to be more interested in the fish than he was, placing his palm on the glass. When the door swished open, he looked up. Shepard's steps faltered when she saw him, but she recovered quickly. "What are you doing in here, Garrus?" Shepard demanded, her words slurring slightly.

"You said we were going to finish our conversation," he answered, deliberately keeping his tone calm and even as he scrutinized the human. "I thought I'd make it easy for you to find me," Garrus said as she came closer. She smelled strange and her movements seemed uncoordinated.

"So, naturally, you hacked the door," she said, fumbling with the cabin controls to raise the temperature– Garrus had lowered it again as soon as he got the door hacked since he didn't know how long he would be waiting and he wasn't wearing his hardsuit with its built-in climate control.

"Naturally," he agreed with a shrug. "Shepard, I hate fighting with you like this."

"You planning to fight me another way?" Shepard challenged, making him wonder if she somehow misunderstood his intent.

A low rumble in his chest answered her aggression, "It doesn't really matter what I plan, your mind seems set."

"I don't need this. Get out," Shepard snarled, placing a hand on his chest and shoving. Her attempt to move him was ineffectual, and he'd had enough of her attempts to assert dominance over him. He caught her wrist and curled his arm around hers, trapping her as he closed distance. Shepard recoiled and dark energy gathered around her hands just before her fist shot out and connected with his mandible– again. Garrus grunted in pain and his grip loosened, allowing Shepard to slip away. The size of the cabin forced her to stay close, but that didn't stop her from attempting a biotic charge. Garrus recovered just in time to brace himself for the impact. With so little space to build momentum, the attack lacked power, but it still nearly knocked him off his feet and slammed his back against the fish tank.

As she regained her bearings after the charge, Garrus roared in her face, at least five tones blended together at once– she didn't know turians could make sound like that. The distraction cost her the momentary advantage her weakened charge had bought, and she knew she didn't have it in her to try again. The effort of working through the suppressants still lingering in her system made her head spin. Garrus caught her arm in a joint lock and spun her around, positioning himself behind her. She tried to counter, but she was too slow– he got her in a headlock and forced her to kneel, then set his knee against her back just below her shoulder blades and pulled her hard against it.

"Yield, Shepard" he demanded harshly, his breath tickling her neck. When she didn't immediately give in, he increased the pressure pinning her. She didn't want to let him win, but she _knew_ she was in no shape to put up a real fight. She tapped his arm, signaling her surrender.

"Good," he snarled in her ear. Rather than release her, Garrus used his hold to lift her to her feet, then all but tossed her away from him. She stumbled and nearly face-planted into the carpet. Before she got to her feet, Garrus was there again, pressing her to the floor. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Jane," he said as he threaded his hand through her hair and gripped a fistful at the base of her neck. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, "But I can't stop thinking of how much I want to be inside you _right now_."

Shepard swallowed hard and tried to control her reaction to the raw need in his tone and how helpless she felt pinned beneath him like this. It made her angry– dangerously angry, "What's stopping you?" she demanded. "We both know _I_ can't."

Garrus recoiled, "I don't want you like that, _ever_. All it takes is one word, Jane," he said, lifting himself off her just a little. She struggled with herself but remained perfectly still and silent. "You're going to have to say it _now_, though," he continued, "or I'm going to assume you want this as badly as I do." He paused a moment longer and she couldn't help it, her lips curled into a small smile. Either he saw it and had been waiting for exactly that signal from her, or something else queued him. He dug his talon-tipped fingers into the fabric of her shirt and ripped. He grazed her skin and she gasped and arched, surprised that it didn't hurt at all. His other hand stayed locked in her hair. When he got to the waistband of her pants, he used it to lift her hips off the floor. She tucked her knees under her and reached down to unfasten her pants, though she needn't have– he ripped through those too.

The tension in her wound tighter as she waited for him to get his own clothing out of the way. He kept his hand gripped in her hair, and he kept her head pinned to the floor that way, so all she really _could_ do was wait. Nearly every instinct she had screamed for her to fight him off, to get free, to _kill_ him if she could, but the few that didn't had an entirely different message to impart. _It's Garrus,_ she forcefully reminded herself, trying to quell the rage that was building at his dominating behavior. _I'm not going to hurt him. He'll stop if I tell him to._ Entangled in her shredded clothing, she felt more vulnerable and exposed than she would have if she'd been completely naked. She gasped when Garrus slid the back of one finger between her slick folds and her anger gave way to desire.

"I don't have the patience for this, Jane. I want you _now_," he growled in her ear. What humans considered foreplay was an entirely foreign concept to turians, and his attempts to accommodate her expectations always highlighted that fact. She didn't mind, either she was in the mood and ready to go by the time her clothes were off, or she _wasn't_ and someone was about to get himself smeared all over the walls.

"I'm ready," she raggedly answered. "Do it," she said, a little more forcefully, as she angled her hips to press against him. His plates were just beginning to open, she could feel them shift as he settled himself against her. As they separated, the plates covering his groin parted her folds and the narrow tip of his cock slid into her. His free hand settled on her hip and pulled her toward him as his length slowly penetrated her. The thickest ridge was halfway down his shaft, and he was almost too wide for her. Garrus snapped his hips forward to overcome the momentary resistance, drawing another sharp gasp from her. He usually paused at this point and checked to make certain she was comfortable. This time he growled, his grip on her tightened, and he began riding her at a demanding pace.

Shepard cried out with each quick, hard thrust and the sound was driving him wild. Pausing only for a moment, he used his hold on her hair and her hip to lift her to her feet and press her against the glass of the aquarium. She wriggled out of her tattered clothes and stepped free of them as they fell easily to the floor. The shift made his plates slip and there wasn't enough friction to keep them from opening completely all at once. His voice mingled with his lover's in a wordless cry as the rest of his length suddenly emerged, filling her completely.

Garrus spat curses and struggled to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of the hot slide of her cunt around his over-sensitized cock. The red reflection of her cybernetics in the aquarium glass caught his attention and their eyes met. She was _smirking. _Shepard, the smug little bitch, knew _exactly_ what it was doing to him when she rocked her hips and bucked against him. He almost lost control, but he was getting much better at staving off the too-intense peaks of sensation when he emerged too quickly– it was one of the few benefits of having a human lover. Practice paid off.

He released his grip on her hair and hip to grab her wrists and press her palms to the glass. She didn't resist and when he removed his hands, she maintained the position, so he trailed his hands down her back and sides, tracing scars and destroyed tattoos with his talons. She arched, but wasn't in pain, so he pressed a little harder and red welts trailed his fingers. Finally, he reached his goal. He grabbed her waist with both hands and resumed riding her, making her whimper and moan once more.

Scars aside, Shepard had a lovely waist, especially for a human. It wasn't quite as narrow as he would have liked, but despite appearances when clothed, she was quite shapely, and from his current angle the flare of her hips created the illusion of much more flattering proportions. Though she was definitely less armored than a turian woman, her waist wasn't exactly soft, and feeling her muscles flex under his hands as she writhed and did her best to _impale_ herself on him was one of the most erotic things he could imagine.

Garrus kicked one leg forward between hers and caught her in a spur-lock. She didn't struggle or try to break his hold, so he moved to similarly trap her other leg. He bent his knees and the lock forced Shepard's legs farther apart. She cried out a little louder as he took advantage of the adjustment and thrust deeper.

Shepard's fingers curled into fists on the glass for a moment before she dropped one hand and slipped it between her legs. He knew what she was doing, and he knew he couldn't do it for her– not without potentially hurting her a lot more than he was willing to risk– but part of him wanted to snarl at her that she shouldn't _dare_ touch what he had claimed for his own. He wrapped his hand around to her stomach and pulled her down hard onto his cock with every thrust.

She stopped pleasuring herself and grasped his wrist, guiding his hand a little lower. He worried for a moment that she wanted him to finish the task for her, but before their hands fell that low, she pressed his hand against her lower abdomen, and with a thrill, he realized he could feel himself moving inside her. _That_ was the most erotic thing he could imagine. A low growl rumbled from his chest and he didn't even notice when her hand lifted from his. He lost himself in the sensations until she cried out as she climaxed. Sparks of dark energy danced over her skin, but they didn't gather, so he ignored them.

Dizzying waves of pleasure washed over her and she momentarily lost control of her biotics, but the dark energy dissipated without much backlash. Garrus didn't stop _pounding_ into her, though, and she wondered if he even noticed what had happened. His talons dug harder against her skin and a very familiar, purring growl sounded right next to her ear, sending another wave of heat to her still-pulsing core.

Shepard tipped her head to the side, exposing her neck to him. Instead of nuzzling her or sliding his rough tongue along her shoulder as he usually did, his teeth grazed her skin, then he bit down hard. She cried out and jerked away, but he didn't let go. She reminded herself that she _trusted_ him, and it didn't seem to hurt as much as she thought it should, so she forced herself to relax and let him do as he wished. She waited, but Garrus neither released her, nor did he stop riding her. _Didn't he finish? That growl..._

She took stock of the situation, realizing her legs were trapped. She started to pull one free and Garrus began growling– this time it wasn't the purring growl that meant he was nearly insensible with pleasure, it sounded aggressive, like a challenge. _Oh, God, He's gone primal on me,_ she thought, trying to remember everything she'd read about turians that might help. She fought harder to get free, and he finally released her neck. Shepard stared in surprise for a moment as a warm wash of blood flowed down her chest from the wound. She shifted again, trying to free her legs, but rather than try and stop her, Garrus released her. He pulled out of her, the flared ridges circling his length dragging hard as he did so. She cried out, momentarily reeling from the sensation.

Before she recovered, Garrus flipped her around, pressing her back to the cold glass, then lifted her and plunged back into her. She braced herself, expecting too much friction, but he slid in easily, lubricated by his ejaculate– which answered the question of whether he'd climaxed when she thought he had. She wrapped her legs around his waist, his hips conveniently holding her up, and he held her still as her body adjusted to the new angle and the curve of his cock. The moment she relaxed a little, he began thrusting again and Shepard threw her arms around his neck and rolled her hips with his motion. If he was ready to keep going, she wasn't going to complain.

* * *

When Shepard rolled out of bed, Garrus could see her muscles tremble from exertion and despite the chill in the cabin, she was covered in a sheen of sweat. It looked good on her and smelled even better. She headed straight for the shower, leaving Garrus to catch his breath. He'd taken her at least a dozen times without a break, and though that wasn't too unusual for his species, it was a lot more that he was used to.

He'd taken a cosmopolitan approach to sex with Jane until now, trying to accommodate her expectations and limits– he'd never dared to just cut loose and _fuck_ her before. She wasn't anywhere near as fragile as he'd assumed, but her back and neck– her whole body was a bloody mess, and the way she walked to the shower suggested she was trying not to limp._ So what? She wanted a fight, and she needed to get laid. Two birds with one stone,_ he reasoned to himself, dismissing the twinge of guilt that had threatened to ruin the experience for him.

He got up and adjusted the cabin temperature in consideration for when Shepard got out of the shower, then gave her a few more minutes before joining her.

The door swished open just as Shepard reached to turn off the water. Her hand rested on the faucet and she watched Garrus. He was still undressed, but his plates were closed, which was a relief. The water swirling down the drain was still running pink from all the scratches and bites he'd left on her, and she didn't want to try another _marathon_ like that in the shower. There wasn't time, even if she wasn't already pretty sure she'd be walking bow-legged for a day or two.

Garrus stepped under the water with her, gently pulling her close and leaning forward to rest his forehead on hers. "You look pretty roughed up. Did I hurt you?"

"Well, only one shot of epinephrine this time, and the rest... it's a good hurt," she said, relaxing now that she had the Garrus she knew so well back.

"Mmm, I'll say. How was it for you?"

She couldn't keep herself from smiling, and his mandibles fluttered in a return smile. Still, she didn't want to tempt fate. She turned her back to him and reached for a towel. "Um, let's talk about that later. I'm still coming down off the suppressants and I'm full of pain meds for my leg, so any answer I give you now isn't worth much. I'm done in here, so..."

"So I'll see you in a few minutes," he smoothly finished for her. "Don't go anywhere, Jane."

She turned and shot him another smile. So much for staying angry with him.


	13. Dodging Bullets

Shepard was sorting pieces of another ship model when Garrus got out of the shower. "You know," he said, "this morning I thought all this was supposed to be practice and stress relief."

She set the model aside and turned to face him, "I've got a lot of stress saved up."

"Yeah, I'm getting that," he replied, walking past her to take a seat on the couch so he could put his boots on. "You've also got a boatload of self-pity in there, too."

"Self-pity?" Shepard laughed, scorn plain on her face. She followed him and leaned against the divider between the desk and her living space.

"Exactly. Think about what you said when I asked you what was wrong earlier."

Shepard rolled her eyes, "The Collectors, Cerberus, being brought back from the dead when I never would have wanted that in the first place."

He finished with his boots and rose to his feet. It didn't feel right talking about this with her when they were on unequal ground. "That's not exactly what you said, but even that version... it doesn't sound like you, Jane."

"Then you don't know me. I do what I do because I have to."

"Wrong, you do what you do because no one else will step up. It's different."

"I'm tired, Garrus, and my head's still not right from all the drugs in my system. If you want to fight some more, throw a punch. Keep arguing with me and _I'll_ throw one."

"I don't want that, Jane. I do want to ask you something, though. Jack said suppressants were a big deal, that I probably hit a nerve being so flip about it."

"It's not something I can take lightly," she confirmed, her tone telling him she wanted to drop the subject.

He couldn't. "Why?"

For a moment, he thought she was going to hit him after all, but instead she sighed and the tension drained out of her. "If I don't have biotics or a gun in my hand, I'm practically helpless. That's all that stands between me and a whole lot of nightmares."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. The only reason I can beat you hand-to-hand is that we're not fighting to kill, and I make you fight me when you're angry."

"And it's a good tactic," Shepard said quietly. "Even when I know you're doing it, it still works."

"You _know_ when I'm..."

"Being an ass for no reason _every time_ we're about to spar?" she finished for him. "Yeah, I notice things like that, Garrus."

"Well, I guess I can't complain if it still works. For what it's worth, I never would have turned that injector on you if I'd known it was a trigger for you. Provoking you is one thing, but... I feel like I went too far."

"You did. I wouldn't exactly say it's a trigger, but you're lucky you're good in bed or I might not have been able to convince myself not to toss you out an airlock today."

"Hmm. Speaking of which..." he said, stepping closer and reaching out to touch her arm.

"Yeah, speaking of which," Shepard said sweetly, slipping her arms around him. The small smile on her lips faded and her tone became piercing,"Why have you been holding back so much until now? I'm not sure if I should be offended or not."

"Now, that's unfair," he said lightly, hoping her mood wouldn't sour so easily. "I asked first, I should get the first answer."

Shepard sighed and relaxed a little. "Alright. How was it for me? It was... unexpected."

"That's it? Unexpected?" Garrus said incredulously. He pulled away and took half a step back, mostly to see what she'd do. "I may never be able to look you in the eye again, Jane."

"It was _hot,_" she continued, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at her. "I think I'm going to realize it was _painful_ in a few hours. I don't think I can handle that every time, but I can definitely handle it again. Especially if I know what the hell happened today."

"I was concerned you wouldn't be... resilient enough to handle it if I just cut loose. Today, I... just stopped worrying about that and trusted that you could take it."

"So that's what you would have done with me if I was turian?"

"Pretty much."

"But not exactly?"

He leaned closer, resting his forehead against hers, "If you were turian, I would have bitten you harder, and your plates would have given mine a bit more resistance and I could have lasted a lot longer."

"You're kidding! That's... wow."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Do," she purred. Shepard flicked her tongue along his mandible, then pulled away and turned her back to him. She opened the cabinet that held her clothing and began rummaging for something clean and not shredded to wear. It was a shame humans couldn't run around in their underclothes, in Garrus's opinion. Clothing hid any muscle definition and made them seem even softer than they really were. "So, why'd you bite me, Garrus? My collar isn't going to hide it."

"Good. Call me crazy, but I like the idea of your Cerberus crew being forced to confront the fact directly."

Shepard smiled at him over her shoulder, "Hm. Me too. Might have to reassign some of them, though."

"Well, a lot of them practically worship you. Particularly the xenophobic ones, strangely."

"Interesting." She set the folded uniform aside and turned to him, "Garrus, are we good?"

Before he answered, he pulled her close and nuzzled his face into her hair. "Even after a day like today?" he asked as he released her and locked eyes with her, "It's good to be your friend, but you don't make it easy, Jane. You're one crazy human."

"Yes, two of my best qualities," she answered testily.

"Don't get mad, I didn't mean it like that. The way things are, I can't always shred your clothes off of you and, uh, bring you back to your normal charming self when you're having a bad day. And it's hard to take it when you lie to me and expect me to swallow it. I thought I'd earned your trust years ago, and now that we're... well, maybe it's best not to think like that."

"When did I lie to you?" Shepard demanded.

"This morning. It really bothered you that I messed with your cabin controls and you said it was nothing." When he said it, it seemed petty and he immediately wanted to take it back– until he saw the haunted look in Shepard's eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the floor. _What is it, Jane? I've never seen you _afraid_ before. Never._

"I trust you, but there are some things I wouldn't even trust myself with. I haven't been this close to someone... maybe ever, Garrus. But if it's nothing to you..."

"I didn't say that, Jane," he said, wanting to snap at her not to change the subject. For once, he realized it would be a mistake to say so _before_ he spoke the words.

"There isn't anyone I trust more, Garrus. And I'm giving you everything I can. I know I'm a terrible friend, and a worse girlfriend."

"Well, at least you're a good lover. I suppose we can call it even."

"Not for long. Chakwas says we're going to run out of epinephrine."

"Spirits forbid. There's got to be some solution."

"There is– quit poisoning me."

"No," he said with a chuckle.

* * *

Jack paced the small space, her eyes wild and her lips twisted into a sneer. She paused every few moments to strike out, usually at the shuttle's bulkhead. "Easy, Princess," Zaeed soothed. "You're starting to make _me_ nervous. This place is just a ruin, nothing to worry about."

Jack ignored him and glared at Grunt as she stalked past the krogan, daring him to give her grief about being so messed up about an abandoned building. "Maybe this was a mistake, Shepard," she said, focusing on the other woman. When she told Shepard about the Teltin facility on Pragia, she expected to be shot down. Jack had it all planned out– Shepard would say no, then Jack would be free to jump ship next time they were in a system with a space-port. "We don't have to do this. I don't think I can go back there..."

"Calm down, Jack," Shepard soothed. "The place is empty, and you're not a kid anymore. You're a tough, badass biotic. And you're not alone."

"Yeah, you're right. I can do this," Jack said, deciding to trust Shepard. Zaeed and Grunt certainly made her feel safer, too, but she hated admitting that, even to herself. She sat down, waiting for the shuttle to land so they could get on with the mission. Her attempts to clear her mind with meditation techniques failed, though and she found her thoughts wondering. She still couldn't figure out why Shepard had taken enough of an interest to actually talk to her, but she was glad for it. It almost felt like they were friends.

Part of that impression was probably a result of all the dirt Zaeed had found on Shepard– and inadvertently shared with Jack and god knew who else. Shepard never talked about herself, she just let Jack spill her guts, offering validation and showing interest, but Zaeed's research had filled in some gaps on the first human Spectre. And after what she could glean from the Cerberus files Shepard had so easily granted her access to, Jack put the two sources together and sometimes wondered how close Shepard had come to ending up one of the _other kids_ from her childhood.

Shepard was older than Jack by several years, but she was still probably young enough, and her colony had been hit by batarian slavers who were not only prepared to deal with biotics, but had probably chosen their target because of the unusually high number of potentials Mindoir produced. That's what the Cerberus files said, anyway.

The shuttle landed with a bump, jolting Jack from her brooding. Shepard was already on her feet and waiting by the door, and Zaeed and Grunt were following her example. Jack took a deep breath, then shoved past everyone as soon as the doors opened. It was raining, and she suddenly remembered how much she _hated_ this planet. The warm water ran over her smooth scalp and found its way under her vest in moments. She was soaked before they were halfway to the entrance. No one else complained, so she didn't either.

Seeing the building– the _prison_– she'd spent her childhood in was beyond eerie. She'd only seen it from the outside once, as she was leaving, and it was simultaneously exactly the same and completely different than she remembered. Everything seemed smaller, cheaper, less intimidating, but she _knew_ what this place was and if anything, the normalcy of it made it even more sinister. _Right, because if it was a fucking fortress with bloody heads on spikes at the front gate, it would be _less_ terrible, _she thought, mocking herself.

As if picking up the turn of her thoughts, Zaeed spoke, "Doesn't look like much, but something about it makes my skin crawl."

"It's about to fall down," Grunt said, his tone making it clear that he didn't share the human's sentiment.

"That's what we're here for," Shepard cut in before Jack turned the comment into a fight. That was fine. Jack didn't feel like verbally sparring with the krogan, not about this and certainly not right now. _Commander fucking Shepard to the rescue once again,_ a mean voice in her head chimed, making her lip curl even as part of her wanted to thank the bitch for sparing her from producing a come-back.

* * *

Garrus entered the med bay, clicking his talons together nervously. He did _not_ relish this conversation.

"Garrus," Dr. Chakwas greeted, rising from her desk and sweeping her eyes over him. "To what do I owe this pleasure? You don't seem to be injured, and Commander Shepard has been planetside for hours so I assume it's not another allergic reaction."

Garrus cleared his throat, "Everything's fine, I just... was hoping to ask about something in private. It's a personal matter," he said. _Great, make it _more_ awkward, Vakarian. You sound like you're about to proposition her._

"We're alone," Dr. Chakwas warily pointed out.

He took a calming breath and continued. "I'm given to understand that certain medical supplies are soon to be in strong demand. We could resupply, but that seems like a very temporary solution."

"Huh," the doctor grunted and crossed her arms over her chest. The pose was an eerie copy of what Shepard did when she was annoyed with someone. Or maybe he had that backwards. "You mean epinephrine shots," she continued. "They already are, now that the Commander's decided she'd rather toy with her health than find a more suitable _distraction_."

"Dr. Chakwas, I completely agree with you, but what do you think she'll do if I tell her no?"

"Let me ask you this, Garrus; what do you think an adrenaline shot an average of every eighteen hours is doing to her heart?"

"Nothing good, but that's why I'm here. There's got to be another solution."

"Oh? If you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them."

"What about her cybernetics? I know you helped upgrade her skin and bone weaves recently. Could something be done to... I don't know, adjust her body's reaction to allergens?"

"Hm. I'm impressed you've got a workable idea. But I'm afraid that's beyond my expertise. You could just make it easy on everyone and break it off, but if you won't, speak to Professor Solus or Miranda. I'd be willing to help implement any upgrades they can come up with."

"But the technical side of things is on them," Garrus added, nodding his head and wishing he'd thought of that before broaching the very awkward subject with the wrong person. "I guess I'll get back to you soon, then." He turned to go, but paused just out of range of the door sensors and cleared his throat. "Uh, how _are_ the medical supplies running?"

Dr. Chakwas sighed. "I suppose at the rate you're going, you've got a week or so left. Of course I have to keep a reserve for _actual_ medical emergencies. The sooner we can resupply, the better."

"Of course. Thank you, Doctor," the turian said, ducking out of the med bay. He'd have liked to retreat back to the main battery, but this was important, and it wasn't going to get less awkward if he waited. He forced himself to pass the battery in favor of Miranda's office. He stopped at the door, and as he reached for the button that would alert the Cerberus operative that she had a visitor, it silently rushed open. _Thank you EDI,_ Garrus thought in annoyance. Having an AI on the ship was not easy to get used to– especially since she _was_ essentially the ship and had eyes and ears in every room.

"Garrus. What can I help you with? EDI informed me that you would likely be visiting me about Shepard. A medical matter?"

"Right. Helpful of her. Shepard and I have been burning through the doctor's supply of adrenaline shots. I was hoping you and Dr. Solus might be able to find a solution."

"Sure," she said lightly. "Stop sleeping with her, or keep your fluids to yourself when you do. If that's everything, I have work to do."

"Well, since that's your idea, why don't you present it to her yourself?" Garrus glibly suggested. Miranda frowned and shifted in her seat. "No? Then try to come up with something useful. I hoped her cybernetics and the medical upgrades might be able to form the basis of some kind of solution."

"Probably. I don't have time to redesign her autoimmune system, even if _she_ wanted me to. An upgrade or modification of her cybernetics would be easier, but it would probably be invasive and require sedentary recovery. I doubt she'd consider it a worthy use of precious time."

Garrus bit back his anger. Miranda's deliberate implication that this matter was none of _his_ business was disrespectful of him as well as the relationship and Shepard's judgment. "Don't _you_? Dr. Chakwas thinks her reliance on adrenaline shots is going to put a dramatic strain on her. Something about her heart, in particular."

Miranda's brow furrowed, "How often does she require that treatment?"

"Often. I don't exactly keep track, but Chakwas said it averaged to one every eighteen hours or so," Garrus said, deliberately keeping his tone nonchalant. Miranda's eyes went wide. "It doesn't _seem_ that often, but time gets a little funny when she's... well, you can probably imagine."

"Tell me you're joking!" she demanded. Garrus crossed his arms over his chest and waited. "Oh, God, you're _not_ joking. Fine," she snapped, locking her terminal and rising from the desk. "Come on, let's go talk to Mordin."

Garrus followed her, silently wondering if he was actually putting Shepard at more risk than he was aware. _Probably, but with Mordin, Miranda and Chakwas working on it, she'll be fine_, he assured himself._ Hopefully she'll understand why I made our private life more public and forgive me._

They arrived at the Tech lab and Garrus let Miranda do the talking. Garrus barely heard the first half of the conversation.

"Curiosity not sated?" Mordin demanded of him, probably repeating the question, judging by the impatient flicker of his lower eyelids.

"Uh, no," Garrus replied. "I mean, she doesn't seem to be losing interest, so I must be doing something right." He could have been mistaken, but Garrus could have sworn a smile began curling the salarian's lips before the scientist turned his attention to the terminal in front of him.

"Solution simple. Will need full list of cybernetics, upgrades, and medical history. Shepard definitely an outlier, human averages won't do."

"You'll have them," Miranda agreed, using her omnitool to grant the salarian security clearance to access some of her files. "No copies are to be made, and I'm revoking your clearance as soon as we get this solved."

Mordin drew in a deep breath, "Unnecessary precaution. Expected nothing less of Cerberus, however."

"Don't pretend I've wounded your pride. I can't believe I'm doing this so she can continue to risk herself unnecessarily."

"Coping mechanism to handle immense amount of pressure. Mission to save entire species, possibly entire galaxy. Risky behavior distracting, empowering." Mordin took a long breath through his nostrils, "Necessary. Better this than bullets."

* * *

Finally, they reached the center of the facility. The entirety of Jack's childhood, more or less. Shepard was watching her like a hawk, and Jack recognized the look in those glowing eyes– she'd take the lead if Jack so much as hesitated, but that couldn't happen. _This is _my _place, _Jack thought, feeling irrationally possessive. The biotic bit back the well of panic and the accompanying memories and forced herself to walk into her old cell first. Shepard was hard on her heels, and even from there, she took control of the situation.

"Come out. We know you're here," Shepard called into the room. Her hand was near her gun, but the real threat was the biotics Jack knew she was readying. That familiar tingle at the base of her skull almost never went away when Shepard was around. Shepard was constantly on the cusp of violence. A disheveled figure emerged from a shadowy corner just as Jack was convinced there _wasn't_ anyone in there with them.

"Who the fuck are you?" she snarled at the interloper. This was _her_ room. He didn't know it yet, but he was dead for trespassing.

"My name is Aresh, and you're breaking into my home. I know you, Subject Zero," the human claimed, taking a half step forward. Jack leveled her pistol at his head– right between the eyes– and he stopped moving, but he didn't stop talking. "So many years have passed, and I thought I was the only survivor."

This wasn't right, none of this was supposed to be real. She was here to wipe the Teltin facility off the map for good, because other than in her own memories, this place _couldn't_ exist. The memories were poison, but they weren't as bad as the fucking nightmare of _knowing_ there were actual pieces of her past that someone else might see– might _talk_ to! _He's dead. Dead for trespassing as much as for remembering my face and knowing what this place is. Fuck, Shepard, with you buzzing your biotics right next to me I can't tell if he's getting ready to attack or not_, she angrily thought, knowing Aresh must dangerous even if he wasn't and Zaeed were useless– they had lapsed into near silence since she started talking about the things returning to this hell made her remember, but it was still good to know they had her back.

She mentally shook herself, none of that mattered, she needed to deal with this intruder. "My name is Jack," she said, her voice ringing out with more confidence and scorn than she expected. "How the hell do you know me?"

"We all knew your face, Jack," Aresh said, almost shyly. Something about him seemed off and standing so close to him raised her hackles. "They inflicted horrors on us so their experiments wouldn't kill you," he said, his condescending tone nearly earning him a new hole in the head. He continued, oblivious to how close to death he was, "You were the question, and I'm still looking for the answer."

"Looks like you're not the only one pulled back here, Jack," Shepard said, drawing her attention momentarily away from Aresh. Jack knew Shepard was trying to manipulate her and control the situation, and she was pissed about it, but she was also grateful. That's what Shepard did, and Jack was pretty sure that in this case, it was being done to her benefit."

Aresh kept rambling, "I tried to forget this. But a place like this... it doesn't forget you," he said, tapping a finger to his temple. "It follows you. I hired these mercs and came back almost a solar year ago. We're rebuilding it, piece by piece. I'm going to find out what they knew– how to unlock true biotic potential in humans," he said, turning his back to his audience, obviously lost in his own fantasies. "I'm restarting the Teltin facility. It will be beautiful."

"I want it a hole in the ground– he's trying to justify what happened by using it?" Jack said in disbelief, hating how petulant she sounded. Shepard shifted, recognizing Jack's weakness. _Swoop in and save the day, Hero. Go ahead, _she thought, wishing she felt more like it was a challenge and less a plea for help. Her gun didn't waver, but she watched Shepard out of the corner of her eye.

"You'd do the same thing to new kids?" Shepard asked, her tone dangerously low. "Wasn't this forced on you?" Leave it to Shepard to keep cool enough to check the facts. Did the question mean Shepard didn't believe Jack's account of how things were? It couldn't. Shepard's biotics were amped up even more, now. She was about to start sparking– that had to mean she didn't have any doubts.

"Some were bought from poor families on Earth or kidnapped from colonies," Aresh explained. "Most ended up here the way I did: batarian pirates." His words made Shepard's brow furrow.

Aresh wasn't done talking, though, and when he spoke, his tone didn't match the story he was telling. "They did such horrible things to us," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "They must have had good reasons."

"There's no reason good enough!" Jack yelled, disgusted at how twisted the only other survivor of her nightmare childhood was. "Are you nuts? You lived it!"

"This place was like a prison," Shepard said, ignoring Jack's outburst. "How did you get out?" The question made Jack pause to wonder what Shepard was thinking. There wasn't time to figure it out, though– Aresh had a ready answer.

"We all attacked at once as they were taking us to the lab," he claimed. "They would have put us down, but then Jack got loose," Aresh said. The last few words were weighted with awe. "When I came to, it was over– the guards, the scientists, and the kids were all dead." He locked eyes with Jack. "And you were gone."

"I stopped it, all of it," Jack argued. Her eyes flicked to Shepard, and her certainty wavered. There were too many questions and inconsistencies. "Maybe the others did have it bad," she conceded, "but what you're doing is just messed."

"Everything we went through must have been worth something!" Aresh insisted, his intensity rising with each word.

"We can blow up the place, but that still leaves him," Shepard pointed out, ignoring Aresh's volatility. "What do we do with another you?"

Jack's stomach flipped at Shepard's choice of words. _She thinks I'm like _him_? You fucking bitch. I'm messed up, but I'm not _this_ messed. Fuck. I'll show you,_ she thought, cold anger settling in her stomach. "That's easy," Jack said, lowering her gun and crossing the room. She passed right in front of Aresh, then stopped on his other side, facing Shepard.

"Just leave me here. This is where I belong," Aresh droned, oblivious to the subtleties of his predicament.

"Fuck that," Jack spat, forcing Aresh to his knees with a flick of a wrist and a glowing burst of biotics. She leveled the gun to the back of his head.

"You're here to erase your past. He's part of that," Shepard encouraged.

"I... shit, is this right?" Jack asked, suddenly concerned. The idea of someone who had suffered the way she had, even in small part, dying in _her cell_, felt wrong. She glanced at Shepard, "Will killing him fix my head?"

"You're a killer, Jack," Shepard said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "That's what you do."

"Yeah," she agreed woodenly. _Takes one to know one, Butcher._ She shook her head, then pulled the trigger, ending Aresh. "That felt... good." _Good old conditioning. It's hardwired now. I'll never be free._

"Bullet in the head solves everything," Shepard said in agreement. There was something in her tone that sounded like irony.

"I know that now," Jack snapped, not knowing if Shepard was mocking her or not. Aresh would have died even if she hadn't shot him– there was no way he'd get clear of the blast, and without the mercs, there was no way he could have gotten off-world. _Shepard knew that. She did me a favor. This way I didn't lie to myself thinking I was letting him live._ Jack glanced toward Shepard, momentarily locking eyes with her. She seemed to be waiting for something. _She's waiting for me to tell her it's time to blow it all up. _"This room was my whole childhood," Jack said, realizing this was her last chance to see the reality behind her nightmares. "Give me a minute to look around."

"Go ahead," Shepard said, not moving. The Commander's boots were inches from the spreading pool of blood, and the woman didn't care. Grunt nodded to her, then turned and went to stand in the hallway without a word. Zaeed set the pack containing the bomb on the floor and began unpacking the equipment.

_Grunt doesn't want to see me weak if he doesn't have to, and Zaeed's trying not to let me see how much he's enjoying the show. Why doesn't that make me want to fuck him up? _Zaeed was one of the few people she'd ever met who had simply accepted her for who and what she was. He didn't ask questions, but he still seemed to understand her and she felt like maybe he even respected her. She was used to being feared, but not respected. She liked it. Zaeed glanced up, feeling her eyes on him, but his attention quickly passed over her and moved to Shepard, who didn't notice she was being watched. _Or maybe he's just enjoying watching Shepard. Fucking perv. He's old enough to be her father at least. _Jack dismissed the thoughts that on another day would have made her laugh.

Her attention swept the cell, actually seeing it now that Aresh was gone.

* * *

"You already finished the coding?" Garrus asked the salarian in disbelief. "Are you sure it'll work? No side effects?"

"Side effects negligible," Mordin said with a nod for emphasis. "Will process toxins rapidly, includes recreational substances. Additional implant necessary. Can stimulate adrenal response if required."

"Huh. Well, I doubt that will bother her too much. How long before you can prototype the cybernetics?"

"Already fabricating. Small unit, simple integration. Surgical installation poses only minimal risk. Ready in three cycles, possibly less. Miranda insists on full review prior to surgery, Dr. Chakwas requires briefing on procedure. Information already sent. Waiting for replies."

"I see. So, once the committee is on board, she'll be good to go?"

"Naturally, Shepard's approval required as well. Will leave her to you," the salarian said, smirking. He handed Garrus a datapad, "Datapad contains full schematics, list of possible side effects, risk assessment. Good luck."

"Right," Garrus said warily, noting that the file was close to thirty pages long. He hoped most of it was the schematics. "Thanks, Mordin. Do me a favor and try to keep this from going public?"

"No time for gossip," the scientist said, flicking his hand dismissively. Garrus shook his head as he left the tech lab. _Everyone_ on the Normandy seemed to find time to gossip.

* * *

Jack flipped the cover over the detonator's switch with the tip of her thumb, waiting for Shepard to give her the go-ahead. They had to get far enough away to clear the blast, but still within the detonator's range so the shuttle was skimming the treetops. Every time she flipped the cover open, she considered pushing the button down too early. _Bullet in the head solves everything, so how much better must a nuke work?_ she mused. Her eyes flicked to Shepard, who held her gaze steadily. _Bitch knows if she watches me I won't kill us all. _How_ does she know when even I don't? _

Shepard's attention shifted to something on her visor display and then she nodded to Jack. Jack's heart leapt and her stomach flipped. Without even realizing she'd done it, the detonator clicked as her thumb triggered the bomb. Shepard hammered the bulkhead with her fist, signaling the Cerberus pilot to step on it and get them out of there. The explosion felt_ good_ rumbling through her bones, and the turbulence that hit the shuttle gave her a flutter of excited anticipation when she thought maybe Shepard's timer was wrong and they were all going to go up in flames after all. She felt _light_ when she realized they weren't going to, though. Maybe the past would stay dead this time.


End file.
